by Meg Cowley
Garth raised an eyebrow and nodded once.
“Here.” Edmund took from around his neck a long, gold chain that had lain hidden under his clothes. He tossed it to Garth, who caught it one handed with sharp reflexes that Soren had not expected him to possess. Soren saw attached to the swinging chain a yellow gold signet ring. Standing in sharp relief against the shape of a shield and upheld by golden arms that were inlaid with polished rubies, was the dragon and crown that was his mother’s crest.
Garth held in his hand a priceless piece, worth more than he could ever hope to earn in ten lifetimes and he clearly realised it. He weighed the heavy ring in his palm and ran his fingers along the finely crafted chain as he absorbed with reverence the treasure that lay in his hand.
“Do you believe us?” Soren was eager to know where they stood.
Garth paused before he answered. “I’m startin’ to.” Silence fell as he thought. “Even if I believe who y’are, why on earth do you need to travel to the dragon isles? It doesn’t make no sense.”
“We need to find the dragons and speak with them,” replied Soren. “They may be the only hope of me regaining the crown.”
“Yeh speak of them as if yeh believe in them,” said Garth guardedly.
“I do. I know they exist,” said Soren.
“So yeh wouldn’t think a man was mad if he said he’d seen them?” suggested the fisherman.
Soren smiled. “No, we wouldn’t and we would appreciate the man who saw them telling us everything he knew about them.”
“Well,” said Garth thoughtfully, “I can’t say whether I saw them or I didn’t, but I’ve sailed close to those islands and I’ve heard a roar as what couldn’t have been made by the sea, or the rumble of the islands as they make themselves anew. I’ve seen winged things that were so far away yet so big I don’t think they were birds and I swear I saw one breathe fire. Unless I’m goin’ crazy, I’m sure I wasn’t mistaken.
“Surely you’ve heard the tales of them though? Child snatching, livestock stealing, giant, winged terrors? Why on earth would yeh want to go and try talk to one? Especially when they live in such an awful place as them islands. They’re hard places to get to and the earth belches out hot, glowing, melted rocks that makes the sea steam an’ the sky dark – yeh could be killed! If the islands don’t kill yeh the dragons damn well migh’ before yeh can say so much as ‘good day’!”
Edmund shifted in his chair. “It will be dangerous, but worth the risk. We must try.”
“Yeh more determined than most then, to seek me out. Never before in my life have I heard of such a venture.” Garth shook his head.
“Will you help us?” asked Soren.
Garth did not respond.
“Think of it this way.” Edmund joined Soren in their efforts. “You can go on an adventure that no one else will have lived through, and I’m sure it would entail no more danger than your fishing trips do. If we succeed, you will have the most fantastic tale to tell and a bag of gold to tide you over.
“Even if we fail and die, you still have a fantastic tale and the bag of gold and we wouldn’t be needing our horses back. Either way, you can move up in the world if you choose. Time is of the essence and we need your decision. What say you, fisherman?”
Garth did not reply.
Soren
Clattering awoke a stiff Soren that morning. He rested for a moment, cheek pressed against wood before he came to his senses and sat up. He had slept on the shack’s floor, with his pack as a pillow and his cloak as a blanket; relative luxury compared to the bare earth yet just as uncomfortable. Edmund was nowhere to be seen. Soren’s mouth opened when he saw what was happening outside.
He rushed out, not caring that he was half-asleep and dishevelled. Edmund and Garth were loading various caskets, barrels and bundles onto the small boat. Edmund stopped to smile at Soren as he drew closer. Soren grinned as he realised why Edmund was so cheerful.
“You decided to take us!” Soren exclaimed to Garth, who paused with a sack in his arms.
“Aye,” said Garth. “It’s a foolish and dangerous venture yer Majesty but I’m not one to turn down the most interestin’ offer that ever came my way. I could use the money to give my Lindy a better life than what she’s gonna get otherwise.”
With that, he turned round to busy himself placing the sack somewhere safe. Soren gazed at Edmund with his eyebrow raised. Edmund looked back, shrugging his shoulders at the prince. Who knows what is in his mind, thought Soren as he glanced back at the fisherman. At least we have a boat. With that, he ran his hand through his hair in an attempt to comb it, before joining Edmund in loading the craft with renewed vigour.
It took a further hour to finish. They loaded boxes and sacks and containers of varying sizes and shapes, with contents from food to fishing equipment; everything the three of them would need to reach the Isles of Kotyir and everything Garth would need for fishing along the way. The deck remained clear but the cabin was crowded; there was just enough space for one man to bunk, let alone three. Soren was so glad to be on a boat heading for the dragon isles that he had no regrets about having to sleep on the deck under a makeshift shelter.
Edmund and Soren gathered up their things. They unpacked every single saddlebag they had with them, repacked anything they did not need and kept out the necessities such as food and weapons. They bundled their things in blankets, packed those in saddlebags that were small enough to carry as satchels and stored the rest of their possessions in Garth’s house.
Their fee, which cost almost every single coin they had, they left on Garth’s table in a glittering pile for Lindy to hide. Their horses and tack remained in the lean to and they said goodbye to their mounts with a final pat. The horses nickered as they walked away. Grey ocean mirrored dull sky as they boarded and hoisted the sail to catch the slight breeze.
Lindy came from within the house to stand in the shadow of the door. She raised a hand in farewell and Garth replied in kind. Soren could have sworn he saw her look at him and Edmund with open hostility in her eyes. He moved to the bow of the boat to gaze seaward instead. Edmund followed him. Thinking about it, Soren could not blame Lindy for disliking them.
The breeze and slight current tugged the craft out until the wind threw some might against the sail as they cleared the headland. Soren had not yet thought about the return journey; now that he was within a couple of days of reaching the ancient home of the dragons, he had little room in his mind for anything else.
His thoughts spun on a repetitive loop, imagining a myriad of possibilities; what the dragons would be like in body and spirit, how he could find them, how they could communicate, how he could introduce himself, how the first encounter would play out, and what he could say to convince them to give him the crown or tell him where it was. His mind gave him few answers. He had no idea what to expect.
He spent hours sat and stood by the bow of the ship, straining his eyes for the first sight of their destination as Edmund helped Garth, interested in the workings of the small boat and learning how to fish and crab with lines, nets and pots. The east coast of Caledan passed by to their left as they sailed, always in sight of land. Garth insisted on pulling in to anchor nearer land that first night, much to Soren’s frustration.
“If we sail through the night, we’ll make much faster progress!” Soren protested.
“And dash ourselves on the rocks or Gods know what else,” replied Garth ominously. “The only reason I’ve managed to keep meself out of trouble is because I’ve enough sense not to go sailing off in any old direction at night. Always stay in sight of land when yeh can an’ always drop anchor at night. Yeh never know what lurks in or above these waters at night. I’d rather be a slow man than a dead one.” He folded his arms and glared, as if daring Soren to challenge his decision.
Soren nodded reluctantly and turned away. Edmund put a warning hand on his shoulder and looked at him with a cautionary glance. “I know you’re impatient Soren, but we must trust that h
e knows best,” Edmund muttered to him as he passed. Soren acknowledged the comment with an uncharacteristic grunt and resumed his position at the bow.
The weather remained dull and dry for the whole of their voyage and the sea mild. They were luckier in that than Soren appreciated, but the lack of visible progress combined with the sometimes intolerable pitching of the small vessel on the larger waves was not leaving him in the best of moods.
He realised his unreasonable manner and felt guilty – then a pang of seasickness smothered the guilt as he scrambled up to vomit yet again over the railings and into the sea. Garth’s booming laugh rang out and he disappeared into the cabin. He reappeared a minute later with a small, twisted thing resembling a root. He took his knife, shaved several small slivers from one end and deposited them into the prince’s limp hand.
“Eat.”
Soren pulled a face as he chewed the strange substance. “Ginger?”
“Should cure a turnin’ tummy.” Garth cut some more peelings and gave them to the prince who ate them without question. The ginger did help, but Soren found he was gladder than he had expected that night, when they steered towards shallower, calmer waters to anchor for the night.
The Isles of Kotyir rose into sight the following day. Mounds loomed in the haze as they drew closer in a chain of islands that led eastwards from the mainland until they faded into the distance. Garth, who they had gathered was quiet at the best of times, was even more taciturn and tense as he began to steer his precious boat away from the mainland and northeast to make for the first island.
The sound of seabirds had disappeared that day, leaving nothing except the slap of waves upon the hull and the swirling of the sea around them. As they grew closer to the islands, deep, low rumbles permeated through the air at irregular intervals.
“The fire mountains,” called Garth quietly, in reply to Soren’s enquiry. He stood by the wheel of his ship, seeming to grasp it for comfort and reassurance rather than purpose.
Soren felt a rush of excitement and fear turn his stomach upside down.
The nearest island drew closer and closer and Garth rushed into activity, barking sharp orders to make the boat ready to anchor. They lowered the sail and hoisted a smaller one up in its place which brought the craft to the slowest crawl so that Garth could avoid hazards.
The waters seemed unusually clear and calm as they inched around the first island. It was eerily quiet. A vague breeze rustled around them as they waited and watched, silent as ghosts themselves. There were no beaches on this part of the island; tall, black-grey cliffs formed an impenetrable wall barring their way, until at last they came to a small cove that allowed them somewhere to stop.
The cliffs diminished and receded to beaches of fine, black sand and it was just within their shadow that Garth dropped the anchor. They could see waves crashing over a hidden barrier out to the open sea. Garth explained to his passengers that they were in a lagoon, which sheltered them from the main brunt of the sea’s force. A ridge of rocks that almost broke the sea’s surface at low tide formed a calmer channel between the sea and the islands, however it was tricky to navigate to the safety of the lagoon.
“That there is why so few return from the Dragon Isles,” the fisherman said sombrely. “At high tide they’re treacherous at best, at low tide, suicide. Even I’ve only come this far twice and I’d not have dared to a third time I dare say, had yer not appeared.”
After standing for a moment longer, they turned to face land. The black beach bathed in its’ shallow waters was bare. It gave way to rocks as dark as the cliffs and then higher to vivid greenery – a wild tangle of dense forests rising out of sight to culminate in the dormant volcanic peak that had once built the island. Although the chatter of life – hidden birds and animals – floated faintly on the air, it seemed an unnerving place.
Soren felt dwarfed by the task ahead. They were at just the first island in a chain of several. How do I find the dragons? He questioned himself.
“Should we try here?” Soren asked.
Edmund frowned. “Were your sightings here, Garth?”
“Let’s try the next island and maybe past that un’ too,” suggested Garth. “It’s not that much further round and I’ve never had any sightings this close to the mainland.”
Soren agreed with relief. He did not fancy the thought of having to explore such a wild and unknown tangle of forests without even an inkling of whether they were heading in the right direction.
The second island proved much the same as the first, but as they sailed past it after a unanimous decision, the third came into view. It was smaller and much rockier. Trails of black destruction cut stark swathes through the greenery.
“That’s what a live fire mountain looks like then?” Edmund asked Garth.
Garth tipped his head to one side, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “Well, it’s living rather than dead, but now it slumbers an’ thankful we should be that it does.”
Another rumble emanated around them.
“Long may we hope it sleeps whilst we’re here,” Garth muttered, almost to himself. “We’ll be coming to islands that are more live than asleep or dead if we keep on,” he cautioned. “Choose wise an’ quick or we’ll have to turn back for our own safety when night falls.”
“It just doesn’t feel right,” Soren said. He looked at Edmund in desperation, as panic rose inside him. “I don’t know what to look for now that I’m here. There are so many islands and time is not on our side to explore them all!”
“Perhaps then, we ought to summon them?” Edmund said.
Soren did not understand. “How so?”
“Garth, perhaps you have something that could make a loud, carrying noise?” Edmund asked.
“I have a horn and the boat has a bell, though both are small,” the sailor replied.
“Anything might help,” said Edmund. “It is certainly worth a try. Perhaps we are being watched this very moment without realising, but we cannot see what is before our eyes. It might draw something out.”
Garth shivered; perhaps at the thought, or maybe because the insidious breeze was becoming chillier. Edmund and Garth began to create the loudest din possible using horn and bell, whilst Soren beat his sword unceremoniously against a metal bucket.
Pealing bell fought discordantly against baying horn and clanging metal. It seemed like they continued for an age, until they were sore with effort and their hearing dulled. Even deafened, they could not fail to hear the huge roar that drowned their din.
It rumbled and reverberated around them and through them, a low, disembodied sound so large it came from everywhere. The three men fell silent. Shivers crawled up Soren’s spine. The roar ceased, echoing, and as it faded, he heard a repetitive thud, like a giant heart beating.
From behind the island, a great, black, winged beast arose, its wings the source of the dull thuds. Flying low against the horizon it sped towards them, huge and growing more monstrous by the second. They froze in fear and indecision, but it pulled up short to alight several hundred feet away on the nearest cliff edge.
Although so far away, its size was beyond estimation. It roared its terrifying dominance at them, unleashing a huge, spurting jet of flame in their direction. Soren flinched. It did not reach the boat but sent a wave of heat roiling across them.
“God save us,” whispered a dumbfounded Garth. Edmund and Soren stood, rooted to the spot.
Zaki
“Your Majesty, Lord Asquith seeks you,” the man said.
Zaki waved him away. The messenger scuttled out backwards, almost tripping at the door when he bowed.
“I must leave. We ride to meet your father who is to return to oversee the smooth transition to my rule.” Zaki turned back to his wife.
Demara sat in the chair opposite as usual. He could see she was weary – the pregnancy had taken its toll on her. Dark circles hung under her eyes and she slouched in the chair. A most unladylike queen. He did not mind, as long as she gave him a son.
“When will you return, husband? I am almost due.”
“Beforehand,” Zaki replied. “We will be some weeks. Do not tax yourself. My son must be healthy.” He bid her a brisk farewell and left. Asquith awaited him outside.
“Your Majesty.” Asquith bowed. “You summoned me?”
“We must accelerate our plans.” Zaki wasted no time. “I am no fool. The coronation was a shambles. I need to reinforce my rule swiftly to ensure success. Harad already rides for Pandora but we must ride to intercept him and impress this urgency upon him. Reynard will ride with me. You must manage affairs here in my absence. I expect all to go smoothly.”
“Sire.” Asquith bowed again, smooth as ever.
Zaki left with haste at the head of a great host, unannounced. It would take him weeks to reach Caledan’s border and return and he could afford no diversions. Yet, when they passed the southern estates of Sir Edmund, days later, a thought struck him.
“Let us halt! We will dine at the traitor’s estate tonight,” he said to his captain. They made for the manor house, set amongst fields of crop and orchards. It was rich country. Zaki found himself surprised at the pleasantness of it.
Dane
Keys rattled in the lock as they fetched him, he presumed, for another round of questioning. Dane squinted at the guard with dull eyes as light flooded in. The windowless wine cellar had been his prison for weeks. It had been pleasant; now it lay dark and empty, ransacked and drained by his greedy captors, who were gleeful in their abuse of his father’s assets.
They dragged him out. He was too weak to resist; they saw that the finest meats never came to his plate anymore. He had given up hope of escape and despaired at the treachery of the queen’s soldiers for following her brother. Dane was certain that Soren could not have murdered her, but he worried more for his own fate now and yet again wondered where his father was. The only advantage to their repeated attempts to draw Edmund’s location out of him was that it gave him renewed hope that his father was alive and had not forgotten him.