The Realm Rift Saga Box Set

by James T Kelly

  Katharine emerged from a side street.

  “There you are. I was worried,” Tom said.

  Even in all the chaos she looked pleased. “I was trying to find another way out of here.” Her maps were threatening to fall from her grasp; she hadn’t had time to stow them properly.

  “The forest,” he said. “To the south.” He tugged his horse closer and helped her slide the tubes into the customised pockets of her saddle.

  “There’s no way off the island there,” she said.

  “No, but we can hide. We can figure something out.” Commotion caught his eye and he saw Brega trying to catch Six’s reins. The elf pulled away, slapping at her hand. “Take them there. I’m going to help Six.”

  “Help Six what?”

  But Tom was already moving, forcing his way through the crowd. Some of them were heading to the forest, others for the ferry or the castle. Some were caught in indecision and letting the mob push them this way and that. Some of them were eying Tom, Katharine, the others; it wouldn’t be long until someone tried to take the horses.

  “We can’t stay here.” Tom coughed. The air was thickening with smoke. Something was burning nearby. “Go. We’ll hold off the dragon.”

  “No, Tom.” Neirin’s voice was firm. “We cannot risk you. You are our only hope of getting into Faerie.”

  “Will we make it if we don’t, Six?” Tom asked.

  The elf shook his head. His golden skin was brighter in the firelight. “Dragons are sent ahead to instill fear and chaos. Picking off fleeing civilians is a good way of doing that.”

  The dragon screamed.

  “How would you know what the dragon will do?” Neirin demanded. “You are nothing, Westerner.”

  “Better nothing with a plan than something without.”

  Neirin started forward but Draig placed his horse in the way. “My lord, you are at danger. We cannot stay. Let go the Westerner. If he is hurt, it is not a thing to us.”

  Neirin scowled. “Fine. Go, Westerner. But Tom, you stay.”

  Six did not wait. Once his horse was free from the crowd he rode away, red cloth billowing out behind him. You must keep Six close, the old man had said. Everything depends on it.

  “Get to safety, Lord Neirin,” he said. “We’ll find you as soon as we can.”

  “Tom, I command you to stay!”

  But he’d already kicked his horse, pushing it through the edges of the crowd and then off at a gallop. He did not look at the ground. There were far more dangerous things above than below.

  “Six?” he shouted. People still ran past, some shouting about the woods, others about the castle. “Six?”

  Tom didn’t slow. He couldn’t. To stay out here on his own was too frightening. If the dragon came for him, he would be alone. He remembered the screams of the burning.

  A long, deep horn blew. It was like no horn he’d heard before. The sound was messy, cheap, without the pure, clean ring of brass. It was Six. He rode towards the noise, which sounded again and again. He emerged in an enormous square, sandstone scorched and pitted, a shop front burning, the fountain in the middle still gurgling happily. A wooden cart had exploded, scattering wood and metal everywhere. Tom wondered what it had been carrying.

  The sound echoed off the stone and Tom saw Six, sitting astride his horse in one corner, blowing into the wooden tube he’d stolen. “What are you doing?” Tom asked.

  “Trying to mimic a mating call.” He blew again.

  Tom dismounted, picking his way over debris. “Why?”

  Six stopped and grinned at him. He seemed out of breath. “Because there’s only one thing guaranteed to distract a man from what he’s doing.”

  Tom couldn’t help but grin too. From somewhere out over the bay a booming horn sounded back at them. Six blew again.

  “What happens now?” he asked.

  “I won’t lie to you, Tom,” Six said. The air sounded another low, booming cry. “This is the really dangerous part.”

  There was the sound of wings and then they were slapped with waves of air. Tom sheltered his head with his arms as the dragon landed in the square with a screech.

  The stench of fish filled the air. Up close the dragon was at once terrifying and odd. Tom had always thought they had four limbs and two wings. But now it was on the ground, he could see it had folded up its wings and waddled on the ends, tiny little claws clicking on the ground. Its legs, too, were small, spindly things and even its body was thinner and more delicate looking than he had expected. Its skin was leathery, stretched over visible bones, as if it was poorly fed, but still a brilliant combination of reds and purples. At its neck hung a silver collar, reflecting the firelight, and it had a white crest on its head. The crest flexed and moved as it regarded them, tipping its head this way and that, staring at them with great golden eyes.

  The square was huge but this thing was as tall as the two-story buildings and almost filled the space. One step forward and it could have plucked Tom from the ground. One breath and it could burn him where he stood. The dragon took a deep breath and Tom waited for the fire.

  Instead, white sacs on the crest inflated and the dragon made that deep horn sound again. It was like Six’s but higher in pitch, and so loud he thought his head might be crushed by the sound. Tom’s ears rung long after the noise had stopped.

  “Get on the horse.”

  Tom was so scared and confused he thought the dragon was speaking. But Six hissed and he looked over.

  “Move slowly. Get on the horse.” The elf didn’t look away from the dragon, which was opening and closing its mouth and making odd little noises. Tom sidled over to the horse. Six was right. They had to get out of there. They’d done their job. The dragon was distracted.

  He clambered into the saddle, hands shaking. “Let’s go.”

  “Take this.” Six handed him the red cloth.

  “What for?”

  “Hold it,” Six said, pushing one end into his hands. The other fell to the ground. “Don’t let go.”

  Then with a shout and a harsh pull on the reins, Six pulled the horse around and they galloped out of the square and down an empty street. Behind them the dragon tooted, a happy sound, and Tom looked back in time to see it climb onto a rooftop and launch itself into the air. Its wings flapped furiously and it looked too big to possibly fly. But then it was airborne, sweeping and diving. Diving towards them. The red cloth billowed behind them as they tore through the streets.

  “He’s chasing us!”

  “Good.”

  “Good?”

  Six pulled them down an alley and the dragon squealed above them.

  “What are we doing?”

  “Buying them time.”

  “What is going on?”

  Six spared a glance back at Tom. “I’ll explain if we survive.” The elf grinned.

  “That’s not very comforting.” But Tom took a firmer hold of the elf with one hand, holding out the cloth behind him. They exploded out of the alley and onto a wider street and Six had to pull hard on the reins to avoid colliding with a group of people carrying crates.

  “Leave them,” Six cried at them, then turned the horse in the direction they’d been coming from. “Hide.”

  The dragon tooted again, and then a few notes. “Ah, he’s singing to us,” Six said.

  “Is that good?”

  “Depends on your definition.”

  Tom looked back to see the dragon bank overhead and then barrel towards them. The horse was going at a gallop but it felt like they were wading through treacle. The ground beneath flashed by, but the dragon was dropping at them like a stone. Too fast. The wings opened and its hind legs stretched out.

  “Six!”

  The elf tugged the horse down a side road in response. The dragon swooped by overhead.

  “Wait a moment,” Tom said.

  “We can’t,” said Six. “I dropped the tube. If he loses us then the puppeteer can take over again.”

  “What puppeteer?”r />
  But Six didn’t answer as the side road ended and they were in a small square, a dead end. Carts were abandoned everywhere and buildings sat with doors open. Tom saw weapons, food, rope scattered on the ground. This must have been a storehouse of some kind, now looted or emptied. “Should we find a weapon?” he asked. “Try to bring it down?”

  Six shook his head. “Trust me, you and I could not bring a dragon down.” He looked up in the sky. These buildings were tall for Cairnalyr and there was no sign of the dragon. “Oen help us,” Six said, then cupped his hands to his mouth and made a poor impression of the tooting Tom had heard earlier. Nothing. Cries and screams could be heard in the distance. “Let’s both try.” Six waited for Tom and then they both made the noise. Nothing.

  The dragon crashed down onto a roof above, scaring Tom almost witless. Broken stone tumbled and smashed into the square, crushing a cart beneath it. Tom fumbled the cloth and dropped it, caught it with a foot and scrabbled to get it back. The dragon’s crest inflated again but Six was already moving, sending them back down the side road. Then onto the wider street, now empty, and Six wove back and forth across it as they galloped. The dragon swooped at them again and Six sent them down another alley, onto another street, wheeling back and forth, leading the dragon on a merry chase. After a minute or two, Tom’s hands stopped shaking. It was obvious they were in no danger. The dragon wasn’t getting anywhere near them and, for some reason, it hadn’t spat fire since Six made that strange honking noise at it.

  Then they found an alley blocked with cowering men and women.

  “Gah!” Six hauled on the reins and the horse whinnied in pain. The city folk didn’t move, just cowered some more. “To the forest,” Six said. “Go south. Now.” He pulled the horse and they went back onto the street. The dragon had passed by so Six took the alley opposite and they emerged on the main road through the city, docks at one end, ferry at the other. Six sent them barrelling towards the ferry and the dragon swooped down at them. Again it opened its wings, displaying its colours, hind claws extended as if it planned to pluck them from the ground and carry them away. It tooted and honked and Six did not turn away.

  “Six,” Tom said. But they continued on. “Six, he’s coming.”

  “I know.”

  The dragon dropped out of the sky at them and Tom could smell fish.

  “Move, move, move.”

  Its maw was open, teeth dripping drool. Its great golden eyes didn’t blink and its claws flexed, ready to take them. Tom’s mouth was dry, his heart hammered and he felt the urge to void his bladder.

  “Iron nails, Six,” he swore and reached for the reins. They fought for a moment, Tom tugging them to the right, Six trying to keep them headed straight. Then the road was gone and Six had dodged to one side, riding onto the open, wind-blasted heath.

  “Drop the cloth,” Six yelled.

  Tom let go but it was caught between them. He fought with it.

  The dragon hit them.

  It felt like a mountain had been dropped on them. The impact sent the horse to the ground and Tom’s head was jerked back, colliding with the dragon behind. Then he was pushed down on top of Six, rolling away. The dragon passed by, tumbling onto the ground. Tom’s neck exploded in pain. Even moving his head a fraction sent bright agony up and down his neck, spots floating in his vision. The dragon screeched, tooted, clambering to its feet. Six was face down on the ground, not moving. Tom looked at the horse and saw blood streaming from the animal’s hindquarters where the dragon’s claws had caught it. The horse tried to get up, whinnied and staggered.

  The dragon was on its feet, looking at the three of them in confusion. Tom closed his eyes. He was hurt, maybe even broken. It was over.

  He saw dark tunnels, lit by a solitary torch sputtering on the wet ground. He felt heavy; he was wearing armour. Men, elfs and dwarfs stood in the room before him. The room echoed with the pounding coming from the other side of thick wooden doors.

  “We are mortal,” Tom said. “Death will come for us one day. Maybe even this day. But we will not lie down and wait for it. We will give death a merry chase. And when it catches us, we will greet it with a sword in our hands and a fight in our hearts.”

  The foresight faded but it snapped his eyes open. He could scarcely believe he would say those words. It was so unlike him. But he was right. Why should he let death come so easily? He would not die today. So he would get up.

  His neck was agony as he pushed himself to his feet. But he was alive. He would stay alive. He would give death a merry chase. The dragon seemed surprised and it hopped back. The bolt of red cloth was still caught on Tom’s belt.

  “You want this?” He’d wanted to shout, to try and intimidate the beast. But it came out tired and weary. He pulled the cloth free and waved it over his head. The pain was enough to make him stagger, but he kept moving forwards. “You want this?”

  The dragon hooted, yelped, hopped back again. Then it screeched. The sound pierced every thought and Tom winced. But he moved forward again. Part of him wondered if he wasn’t running to meet death. He waved the cloth. Golden eyes followed it.

  “Come horse,” he said, not taking his eyes off the dragon. For a moment he heard nothing and wondered if the horse was too badly injured. But it came. Blood streamed from its haunches and it reeked of sweat. But it seemed calm despite the madness. Withed stock. It would be a shame. Tom tucked the red cloth in the saddle. The dragon stepped forward and yelped again. Tom stepped away from the horse.

  The dragon’s head swooped down and stopped, face to face with him. Its mouth gaped, the stench of fish gagging him. He daren’t move. He told himself he wouldn’t die. He didn’t die. He had seen it. But a foresight meant little when you were staring down the gullet of a dragon.

  Possessed by some madness he couldn’t comprehend, he reached out and touched its snout. The skin was warm, softer than he’d expected. He could hear the beast breathing, a waft of rank air washing over him with each breath. Then it turned its head and regarded him with a golden eye almost as tall as he was. Tom thought he saw something in that eye, a prisoner looking out from behind bars.

  Six groaned and the eyes snapped towards him. No time. Tom shouted, “Fleoye!”

  The horse leapt into a gallop, the red cloth streaming behind it. The dragon’s head swept around and with a squeal it hopped after the horse, bringing it down with a single swipe. Then the great beast began to jump around its prize, tugging at the cloth and taking nips at the screaming animal beneath.

  Tom ran to Six. “Come on.” He lifted the elf to his feet. “Can you walk?”

  Six’s gaze seemed unfocused. “Yes.”

  The burning city put out enough light to see dozens of people running for the south and Tom followed them. He didn’t look back. Not when the horse was silenced with a crunch. Not when the dragon let loose a bellow that rang with mortal rage.

  Chapter 12

  Tom hurt all over. His bruises had found new friends and his neck was a dull, constant ache. Six was heavy and unsteady on his feet. Each stumble pulled at Tom’s neck, sending a flare of pain shooting into the base of his skull. There was a dragon in the air which could burn them at any moment, an invasion force was on its way and there was no way off this grace-forsaken island.

  One foot in front of the other, he told himself. Get to the forest. That’s your only problem right now.

  There was a boom from the city, a thunderclap of sound, and Tom looked back to see fire leaping into the air and raining back down on the rooftops. Something had exploded. The dragon had settled on the castle spire, clinging to it and shooting the occasional jet of flame. Tom wondered where the soldiers had gone and whether Ria was with them. It wasn’t right to leave the city folk undefended. How many had died while the dragon had burnt the city, unopposed?

  That doesn’t matter, he told himself. The forest. Get to the forest.

  He and Six were coming from the east whilst everyone else was streaming out of the city from
the south. It took a while to catch them up and so they were amongst the stragglers, the old and infirm, the wounded and the dying. There were cries for help all around him. But what could he do? If he helped them, he would have to leave Six. The elf might be many things, maybe a criminal, certainly a liar, but he had saved many lives today. Tom could not abandon him, even if that old man in his foresights hadn’t told him not to.

  It felt like days before they reached the trees. Many of those he was walking with did not reach them. They stopped, lay down, rested or died. Tom wouldn’t let himself look back. He kept his gaze ahead, just as he had when he’d left Regent. Abandoned him. Like the dead and dying Erhenni. But what could he do? So he kept walking until he was in the forest and the tension and fear left like a weight removed from his shoulders. It was dark here. It was safe. He carried Six a little farther and then he let himself stop, sitting Six against a tree and sitting himself against another.

  He must have slept because the next thing he knew someone was shaking him. It hurt his neck and he pushed at them. “Stop it,” he said. He felt worse. His shoulder, hurt in the Whispering Woods, was full of angry needles again. And his head hurt with every movement. All he wanted to do was sleep.

  “We have to find the others.” It was Six. He seemed better but pain glittered in his eyes.

  “Can’t we rest for a moment?” Tom asked.

  “It’s not safe.”

  Tom laughed despite himself. “It’s a lot safer than facing down a dragon.”

  Six nodded. “I heard you,” he said. “It was dangerous and brave and stupid.”

  “Yes, it was.” Tom closed his eyes.

  “But waiting for an army to find us napping here is a smart move?”

  “Maybe.” He didn’t care. Did it matter? Elfs or men, West or East, did it matter who sat in a fancy tower? Crops still needed harvesting and aurochs still needed herding. That would never change.

  “Come on.” Six patted his cheek. Even that hurt. “We don’t have long.”

  “My neck.”

  “I can fetch Brega if you want.”