A Skin of a Dragon (The Guild of Gatekeepers Book 1)

by Frances Jones

  'I'm going to get a closer look,' I said, stepping out into the alley, but Eliza pulled me back.

  'No wait! Devere may come out at any moment. Let’s find somewhere better to hide and watch together.'

  I glanced about. 'Under there,’ I said, pointing to the cart that stood outside the tavern.

  Slipping under the canvas, we peered out from beneath its cover. An hour or more passed, and the weather turned steadily worse. The incessant patter of rain upon the canvas was interrupted now and then by the raucous shouts of the patrons of the tavern as they grew merrier, but the lively calls of market-goers fell gradually silent as the rain fell heavier and the wind turned chill.

  My legs were cramped from crouching too long between the empty barrels, and my feet were numb. I was about to propose we leave and come back the next day when the door of the house opened and Devere stepped out. The old woman was nowhere to be seen.

  Devere tilted his hat to keep the rain out of his face and proceeded down the alley and back into the street. I stuffed my fist into my mouth and shut my eyes as his heavy footsteps passed the cart before disappearing into the distance. It was several minutes before either Eliza or I could summon the courage to peep out from under the canvas once more.

  'Do you think he is gone?' Eliza whispered.

  I peered through a tear in the canvas. The street was deserted, and the only people to be seen were those still braving the rain in the market at the end of the street.

  'Yes, he is gone,' I confirmed, clambering down from the cart with some difficulty on account of the cramp in my legs. 'Devere is up to something in that house, to be sure. We have to find out what.’

  'Indeed,' replied Eliza. 'Wait here. I'll pretend to have lost my handkerchief in the road and enquire whether the old woman has come upon it.'

  'You don't mean to go now?' I said.

  'Of course,' replied Eliza. 'Have you a better plan?'

  I shook my head.

  'Wait here for me and only come if I signal for you to do so. If I go inside and am not out within half an hour, go back to the Gatehouse and summon my father.'

  With that, she straightened her dress and adjusted her coif before striding up to the house and knocking loudly upon the door. A few moments later, it was opened by the same old woman that had opened it to Devere.

  'Are you here to see George?' she asked before Eliza had chance to speak. 'It is high time for tea. Won't you come in? The good Queen Elizabeth is on the throne, and that wicked wretch Mary is dead. Long live the Queen!'

  Eliza glanced back at me and beckoned me over.

  'Is she mad?' she whispered.

  'I think so,' I murmured. 'Ma'am,' I said stepping forward and addressing the old woman. 'Is George home?'

  'Oh yes, he is upstairs. Won't you come in for tea? The good Queen Elizabeth is on the throne, and that wicked wretch....'

  'Yes, we will come in,' I interjected. 'We have come to see George.'

  I stepped past the old woman, followed by Eliza. The old woman simply stood in the doorway, muttering to herself.

  Inside, the house was in total disarray. Books were stacked in the sink, and a table and chairs had been overturned and dressed with sheets to resemble a ship. A handkerchief had been tied to the end of a broom like a flag on the top of a mast.

  'Upstairs,' said Eliza.

  Leaving the old woman downstairs, we climbed the stairs and found ourselves on a landing before a single door. I turned the handle, but it was locked.

  'Hello! Is anyone in there?' called Eliza through the keyhole.

  'Eliza?' came a muffled voice from within.

  'George?!' cried Eliza. 'Is that you?'

  Chapter 14

  'Yes, yes, 'tis me, George. Open the door!' cried the voice from behind the door.

  'It's locked,' I said. 'Find me a pin. I'll have it open in a moment.'

  Eliza hurried back downstairs and returned a moment later with an old brooch.

  'That will do,' I said, inserting the pin into the keyhole. A moment later, the lock sprung back, and the door was open. On the other side stood a man so like Emerson it seemed inconceivable that they were not closely related, though I noted George was fairer, and his eyes were blue. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and his face was pale and drawn.

  'George, I can’t believe it is really you!' exclaimed Eliza. 'Devere said you were dead! What is the meaning of this?'

  'I know, my dear,' said George, embracing her. 'Devere has me imprisoned in this room. Who is this? You found my message, it seems.'

  'This is Tom,' said Eliza. 'He is Emerson’s new apprentice. He discovered your message. We saw Devere enter and then leave and knew something was amiss. Oh, but George! There is a window just there; if he locked you in here, why did you not climb out and escape? And how did you get the message into the book in the library?'

  'To answer your second question, 'twas by means of a hastily-cast and poorly-prepared manifestation spell. 'Tis a wonder it worked at all,' replied George. 'The answer to your first question is more complex. I am afraid it is not as simple as climbing out of a window to escape this prison: Devere has put a binding spell upon me to trap me in this room- the same spell that is used to confine the terror in the labyrinth. It is extremely powerful and beyond my abilities to breach. I am trapped here.'

  'Why ever has he done that?' gasped Eliza. 'What wrong have you ever done him?'

  'He knows I know the location of the dragonskin, and he wants it!' replied George.

  'But I thought the dragonskin was lost,' I said.

  George looked at me curiously. 'Is that what Emerson has told you?' he asked.

  I nodded.

  'Well, 'tis true of a fashion. It is not lost but beyond reach- for the moment. It was kept by the Guild for centuries, the most prized of all its treasures, passed down from the custody of one Keeper to the next. But the previous Keeper, Henry Smith, did not trust Devere and deemed it too great a risk to entrust him with the dragonskin. It is immensely powerful in its own right, but in the hands of Devere, skilled alchemist that he is, it would be lethal. He long ago achieved the Great Work, transforming base metals into gold. Since then, his ambition has been to recreate a race of dragons. To give life to something once dead would be to triumph over death itself, though he cannot achieve such a thing without the dragonskin. It is highly dangerous and all the more so because of the use that Devere would put the creatures to.

  ‘Such was Smith’s concern, for he knew Devere to be ambitious and suspected his intentions even then. He confided in me before he died, asking that I put the dragonskin beyond Devere's reach, and so I committed it to the care of the greatest magician ever to have lived, the founder of Other England, until such time that it is deemed safe for it to be returned.'

  'What is Other England?' I asked.

  'It is England as it was before the Banishment, home of the greatest scholar of magic the world has ever known and master of birds and beasts, both magic and otherwise: a man by the name of Ambrose Ruddle. Ambrose discovered the secret of immortality and was already three hundred years old when the Banishment came. He retreated to his castle at the very tip of England, drawing what magic he could with him and creating another world within this one. Time does not pass in Other England; it is shrouded in a permanent mist, and fishermen fear to sail too near to the cove it overlooks, for it is rumoured to be frequented by sea canaries and mermaids and littered with whale bones to snare unwelcome vessels. Local folk shun it and do not pass within the castle’s shadow. Yet there Ambrose lives to this day, custodian of the last remnant of pure high magic in this world, and now that Devere has learned it is not lost, he will stop at nothing to find it.'

  'I would that he never found out,’ said Eliza. 'How did he come to know?'

  'That was my fatal error,' replied George. 'Following Smith's death, Devere tried desperately to learn what became of the dragonskin. For my part, I failed to destroy my correspondence with Smith, in which he revealed his concerns a
nd bade me put the dragonskin beyond Devere’s reach. Devere found the letters that Smith and I had exchanged while I was trading in Rome. When he discovered my role in its disappearance, he questioned me closely on its whereabouts. When I refused to disclose to him its location, he imprisoned me here. He believed I must have hidden it in order to wield it later in a bid to usurp him. 'Tis a curious thing that men who harbour treachery and greed in their own hearts tend to see it in others through their own crooked view of the world. So began Devere's long effort to wring from me the dragonskin's whereabouts. Oh, he has tried everything- tortured me with potions that burn your veins until every heartbeat is agony or produce such mind-bending hallucinations the brains of those who consume them eventually disintegrate from the torture- if they don't dash themselves against a stone wall first just to be rid of the torment. I have endured his tortures- just about - but he will not give up until he has the dragonskin.’

  Eliza frowned. 'Tom overheard Devere talking to Oliver Cromwell at the Gatehouse yesterday. They spoke of protection for the Guild and victory for Cromwell. Has that anything to do with Devere’s desire for the dragonskin?' she asked.

  'Well, you are quite a pair of bloodhounds, for sure,' smiled George, but then his face turned grave. 'But you are quite right; Devere has made a deal with Cromwell. The Guild is not the only magical group in Europe, though it is undoubtedly the oldest. Ever ambitious, Devere was determined to expand its power and influence when he became Keeper and establish it as superior to its rivals. Eventually, he had the ear of the King and became his private magician and advisor. The King's imprisonment was both a disaster and a golden opportunity for him, and he is now entangled in a high-stakes game, for he has turned upon his former patron, betting upon Cromwell and Parliament winning the war and aligning himself with them. Though it must be said, he had little choice, for in his arrogance he had not concealed his involvement with the King anywhere near as well as he might. Cromwell issued an ultimatum to Devere to ally himself with the Roundhead cause or face execution for witchcraft. His position was precarious to say the least, but in Devere's machinations, it was little more than a mis-step; he readily renounced the King, promising to ensure a swift victory for Cromwell with the most powerful weapon he could dream of- an army of dragons! That is the pretext at least, but it is a double duplicity. He really means to usurp Cromwell, once he has carried out his diabolical work, and tighten his grip upon power. Who could stop him with an army of dragons at his command? He is simply using Cromwell and his forces to depose the King for him until his plan has come to fruition.'

  'That cannot happen!' I cried. 'We must do something!'

  'Peace, lad,' said George kindly. 'He has not got the dragonskin yet, nor will he while I still have breath in my body! But before we hatch a plot to save the King and the future of all England, please find me something to eat and drink. Mrs. Tucker is a kind jailer, but she is quite mad, as you have no doubt seen, and she regularly forgets to feed and water me.'

  'Yes, of course,' I said. 'Half a moment! I'll have a look downstairs.'

  I dashed back down the stairs and rummaged through the cupboards in the little kitchen but found nothing. Mrs. Tucker was sitting in her ship, deep in conversation with the mop. After much searching, I found a fresh loaf tucked into the case of the grandfather clock, and half a cheese in the hearth. There was still some beer in a small barrel, which I took as well.

  'Poor Mrs. Tucker is the ideal jailer for Devere,' said George, as he washed down the bread and cheese with the last of the beer. 'She could shout from the rooftops that she has a man imprisoned in her upstairs room, but no one would take a blind bit of notice. 'Tis pitiful really.'

  'How long have you been here?' I asked.

  'I have quite lost count of the days,’ George replied, 'but it must be close on to two months. Let me see, what is the date today?'

  'The twenty-sixth of September,' I replied. 'It is Thursday.'

  'Zooks! It has been longer than that. Devere brought me here at the start of June. I believe it was the third or fourth.'

  'Yes, that is when he told us you had died in your sleep,' said Eliza. 'Emerson was away; he came back as soon as he received the message, but Devere held the funeral the very next day. None were permitted to see your body for fear of contamination. He said you had died of tuberculosis. Goodness, there is even a headstone in the churchyard with your name inscribed upon it and a coffin beneath it! My father was a pall bearer. I shudder to think who or what Devere put in the coffin!'

  'Indeed,' replied George. 'It seems Devere is going to extraordinary lengths to get what he desires. We have some time, but not a lot, for he does not yet have the dragonskin, and he lacks the other vital ingredient he requires- dragon amber, or solidified dragon fire. It is preserved in the mountains of Muscovy. Of course, he would first have to obtain the dragon amber, and that would require a lengthy journey by land and sea…’

  A sudden horrible realisation gripped me. My stomach lurched, and my blood ran chill.

  'Sir, I fear we have less time than you believe,' I cried. 'I think Devere already has the dragon amber!'

  Chapter 15

  George's face fell. He cast his hands across his face and sank into a chair beside the hearth and was silent for a long while. Eliza looked at me with horror.

  'How did he come by it?' asked George at last.

  'I, I found a box washed up in a cave,’ I stammered.

  ‘Emerson’s ship was wrecked on the homeward journey from Muscovy,’ Eliza added.

  ‘Aye, and for taking the box, Emerson brought me to a London to face Devere,’ I continued. ‘Devere would have had me killed, but Emerson nominated me as his successor to spare my life. He was mighty evasive about the box’s contents, though. When I asked him what it contained, he would say only that it was private business he was conducting on behalf of the Keeper. I can't be sure, but I've an inkling it could be the dragon amber you’ve spoken of after all I have heard.'

  'If that is so, does Emerson know what Devere is planning?' asked Eliza.

  George immediately looked troubled. 'Devere trusts Emerson more than any other member of the Guild. He was his protégée, and Emerson greatly admires Devere,' he said. 'That makes him vulnerable. It could be that Devere has not revealed the full extent of his plans, but Emerson is no fool. I hope to goodness he is not complicit in Devere's plans, but your news worries me. For that reason, Emerson must know nothing of this.

  'Now, I have a plan, but you must work alone. It will be dangerous, but it is our only hope. Until we know for certain otherwise, we should assume Devere does have the dragon amber. That is the worst eventuality for us. Now, if Devere obtains the dragonskin and is able to carry out his plan, he will eliminate Cromwell without a second thought, and one tyrant will simply be replaced by another more dangerous and powerful one, and then I fear there will be no hope for the King. Maybe it is already too late for him, but we must at least try to thwart Devere's plans while we are still able to do so.'

  'How?' asked Eliza.

  'By retrieving the dragonskin from Ambrose Ruddle and taking it to King Charles,' replied George. 'The dragonskin is our great fear, but it may also be our final hope. It could just save the future of England. Things are already looking bleak for the King; negotiations between His Majesty and Parliament are on-going, but his position is precarious. If he is to stand any chance against Cromwell and Devere, the dragonskin is his only hope. Go back to the Gatehouse, and do not breathe a word of what you know to anyone. In the labyrinth I have hidden a compass which I crafted myself. It will lead you to Other England. To protect yourselves from the terror of the labyrinth, you must sprinkle your clothes with the preparation, the ingredients for which you will find on page 184 of a book in the library entitled Potions for Protection. You will also find a map that I drew indicating the exact location of the compass in the labyrinth tucked into the spine. The spell is a repellent to all birds and beasts, but curiously, not humans. You must get t
his absolutely right- I have encountered the terror in the labyrinth myself when hiding the compass, and were it not for the potion, I would not have emerged alive. I will not elaborate further on the nature of the beast, lest fear keeps you from your purpose, but I cannot impress upon you enough: you must prepare the spell correctly. It is a complex preparation and will take several weeks to make ready, for many of the ingredients must be harvested under specific moon phases.'

  'Several weeks?!' I broke in. 'We do not have such time to spare. What if Devere discovers where the dragonskin is hidden before then?!'

  'We must use Devere’s greed to our advantage,’ said George. ‘He could not countenance entrusting the Dragonskin to another, and so he judges others. Let his arrogance be our cloak for now! While he believes I have hidden it somewhere I alone can get it, so much the better. It should buy you time enough to prepare the spell and get to Other England, but only just.'

  'What if we are too late?’ I asked.

  'Then I'm afraid all will be lost- for the King and the future of magic in this world. It is a slim margin by which we have the advantage,' replied George.

  'Will you come with us?' asked Eliza. 'I'm afraid Tom and I will not manage so great a task alone. Surely there is a counter-spell to the binding one Devere has used to trap you here. Can we not cast it for you, so you might accompany us?'

  George shook his head. 'Undoubtedly, there is,' he replied, 'but Devere is a greater magician than I am. It would take weeks, nay, months to find such a spell, prepare the ingredients and execute it. Even then, it is doubtful it would work. We have not the skill and craft of a Keeper. The time we have is scarcely enough for you to prepare the repellent spell, and that is challenge enough for two young magicians. Moreover, Devere visits regularly, as you have already found. He must not know anything about what has befallen. If he finds me gone, he will know I have been helped, and he will scrutinise all Guild members, including you. His plan is not yet ripe, it seems, but the time draws close. We must use every advantage we have. He is extremely perceptive, and so he must not suspect a thing. Stealth is our best weapon, so hold your nerve until the time comes.'