by Joffre White
The scene was as clear as if it was only a few metres in front of him, a view of the land from the air as if he were in a helicopter (or on a hang-glider), but this landscape was frozen with shining, black ice. No sun shone, only the light of a full moon gave the scene clarity and detail. Jagged frozen figures in their thousands were swarming forwards and with every step, they made the land and vegetation blacken and wither underfoot. Anything living that got in their path was immediately crystallised into solid ice-covered beings which joined and added to the advancing army.
‘Hold tight,’ announced Gizmo, pulling a lever and turning the chair a little.
There was a slight blurring and then a new scene was spread out in Frog’s view. The land was bathed in twilight, but far on the horizon glistened the shining black ice, rippling with the advancing army of the Hidden People. There was a township in the foreground with people hurriedly leaving their homes, some with large bundles strapped to their backs, some leading loaded carts pulled by whatever livestock was able. Men, women and children with tearful and angry expressions were looking anxiously to the north and the advancing menace.
This was by no means a scene of panic but a well organised evacuation, for there, amongst the people, was the familiar figure of Logan, astride a large black horse, his cloak swirling around him. He was shouting and encouraging the people not to panic, his voice clear and spreading courage into the hearts of young and old alike. Frog had the feeling that, if need be, all of these people would turn, stand and fight alongside Logan if he asked, such was the trust on their faces when they looked towards him.
‘Now you really must hold on,’ said the wizard as he pulled and pushed various levers. The whole contraption rotated and began to rise up, the long barrel of the telescope levelling out and pointing in the opposite direction.
‘Prepare yourself to see some of the horrors that Lord Maelstrom has in store for us,’ said the wizard.
Again the image blurred, then a grainy-greyish hue gave way to flares of fire lighting up what was left of the burning countryside. The air was polluted with acrid smoke drifting across the landscape, a landscape that was black and desolate. Burnt and stunted trees clung to the ashen soil, and thick plumes of smoke rose up to feed the dark menacing clouds that blotted out the sky.
The creatures that scrambled, crawled and slithered over the desolate land were scrawny, blackened and twisted. Their eyes were filled with a sickly green light, their expressions were vicious and evil. Frog could feel the despair and hopelessness that accompanied these advancing legions.
There was a slight movement and the view moved to the front line of the destruction. Here there were groups of the black wolves, their matted, oily fur hanging lankly from their bodies. They were in the process of burning a village and terrorising the occupants. Some of the wolves were on all fours, rounding up their victims into groups while others were up on their hind legs carrying flaming torches with which they set light to the buildings and vegetation.
Frog stared in disbelief as the villagers that had not been killed by the wolves in their attack were tied up and staked to the ground, left to become helpless prey for the army of advancing creatures to feed on. A gathering dark cloud above them was signalling their doom. Frog pulled his head away from the viewfinder and turned to Gizmo. He spat the gobstopper out into his hand, his face now red with anger.
‘Why aren’t we saving those people? Where’s the help that you sent out?’ he cried.
‘Help is at hand, but at the moment it cannot be everywhere that it is needed,’ replied Gizmo. ‘We are gathering in as many of the people as we can, but we must also bring our forces together, here at Castellion Stronghold, so that we may deploy our armies and strike back with accuracy and surprise at Lord Maelstrom and his wicked cohorts.’
‘But what about those people? They need our help now!’ pleaded Frog as he climbed down from the telescope in frustration.
The wizard put his hands on Frog’s shoulders and looked him squarely in the eyes. ‘One thing that you will have to accept, as painful as it may be, is that we cannot save everyone. There will be casualties, some close to our hearts. But you must focus on winning the war and not just the battle. Evil will have its triumphs, it has always been that way. It is up to us to lessen that triumph and give ourselves the greater victory.’
‘But I need to do something,’ said Frog. ‘I feel so helpless. What’s the point of me being here if I can’t make a difference?’
‘Don’t be too eager to put yourself in jeopardy, young Frog. Danger will find you soon enough. Maybe sooner than you think. Now, go and gather the squires together, make sure that they are well prepared for their masters. Tomorrow morning there will be a gathering of the commanders and the Chosen. You can chose one squire to join you and be your companion in the forthcoming perilous venture. Pick wisely, for they may have more of a part to play than either you or I know.’
Frog left the wizard and made his way back to the stables to pass on the message to the rest of the squires. Along the way he discarded the gobstopper; he had quite lost his appetite.
As the first of the stars twinkled in the late evening sky, Frog stood once again on the battlements, this time accompanied by Gizmo and the king. They had all sensed some time earlier that Logan, Sir Peacealot, Sir Dragonslayer and Lady Dawnstar were returning, having completed the missions that they were sent on.
The first to arrive, amongst great excitement, was Sir Dragonslayer and his dragon masters. They appeared in the sky to the west, the sun sinking below the horizon, now bathing the clouds red and reflecting on the jewelled underbellies of the great dragons. They flew in formation, two hundred of them, the hues and colours of the dragons adding to the spectacle and wonder. As they grew nearer, more and more people thronged onto the battlements and out of their tents and pavilions to watch the great beasts land on an area of the plains cleared and prepared for them, their arrival being accompanied by loud cheering and applause. Most people kept their distance, but a few brave souls rushed forwards for a closer look, not only at the majestic animals, but also at their legendary riders. Their eagerness was brought short by one of the beasts living up to its temperamental nature and exhibiting disapproval at so many humans advancing at it.
It let out a tremendous roar and emitted a large stream of flame above the cowering heads. Many left with singed hair which they would later display to others as a trophy of the occasion.
Frog watched in wonder as the rider remonstrated with his mount in the strange guttural language of dragons. A rare event to hear it openly spoken.
No sooner had Sir Dragonslayer joined Frog, the king and Gizmo in their place on the battlements, when all three felt the presence of Lady Dawnstar in their minds and, looking out, they saw her banners flying amongst the galloping white steeds carrying her and her Maids of Steel. It was in that moment that Frog saw the glory that was in the name of her army. He could not even estimate their number, the suits of bright, polished steel armour blended together into an advancing shining cloud. Helmet-less, their golden hair flew around their heads like flaxen halos. They turned towards the east and circled to the rear of the castle where there was clear grazing land and space for their encampment.
‘Welcome home, my lady, I’ve missed you,’ channelled Frog in his mind.
‘You have been in my thoughts also,’ she replied. ‘Has the Dark Lord bothered you since our last encounter?’
‘No,’ answered Frog. ‘But I get the feeling that he’s listening to and watching us when he gets the opportunity.’
‘Fear not, my friend, for we have safety in numbers. I’ll be with you as soon as we’ve made camp and tended to our steeds,’ she replied.
Frog turned his attention to Sir Dragonslayer, who he had not yet had the chance to welcome back.
‘I never realised that dragons could be so beautiful, do you think that I could actually meet one?’ he enquired.
Sir Dragonslayer looked at Gizmo and the king
. ‘I take it that you haven’t told him yet?’ he said.
‘We thought that we would leave that pleasure to you,’ replied the king.
Sir Dragonslayer turned back to Frog. ‘Meet one? You’re going to ride one.’
‘You’re having me on!’ exclaimed Frog.
Sir Dragonslayer looked quizzically at Gizmo.
‘An expression of surprise and acceptance,’ explained the wizard.
Frog stood there open mouthed until Sir Dragonslayer leaned forwards and lifted his chin to shut it, prompting laughter from everyone.
That evening there was a banquet in the central hall. Great quantities of food and drink were displayed, with serving staff to-ing and fro-ing carrying dishes of hot cooked meats and vegetables.
Frog was seated at the high table between King Hector and Lady Dawnstar, along with Sir Dragonslayer and Gizmo. There were two empty seats which awaited the arrival of Logan and Sir Peacealot. Gizmo had told everyone that he knew they were safe and that their arrival was imminent. Just after the first dishes were served the great wooden doors of the hall were opened to a fanfare and Logan and Sir Peacealot strode in. They marched side by side to the king’s table and bowed graciously.
‘My Lord King,’ announced Logan. ‘The surviving peoples of the northern territories have been removed from the path of the Frozen Wastes and are journeying to Castellion Stronghold to join our stand against our adversaries. Sadly, those villages and their populations living in the outer lands could not be reached in time and they have fallen prey to the Hidden People and have joined the ranks of the frozen, walking dead. There is nothing now between us and the coming threat in the north except for empty lands. They’ll take no more souls from us to feed their army.’
Sir Peacealot stepped forward.
‘My Lord King, I have gathered every knight and war-worthy man to our cause. Those that have not yet made camp continue to arrive and join the throng. They come in their thousands, by horse, foot or by whatever fashion will transport them, for all pledge allegiance to the king, Castellion and the Chosen. The Legend has inspired the land.’
‘So be it,’ announced the king. ‘Let us all now be seated and take our sustenance, as it may well be some time before we have again the pleasure of such luxury. Tomorrow, we set in motion the events to shape our future and embark on perilous journeys. Let us also take great comfort that we share each other’s company, trust and loyalty.’ He stood and the room fell silent, no one moved, all eyes were on the king. He spoke clearly and effortlessly for all to hear.
‘For Castellion. Let the Light free us from evil.’
As one, all of the representative knights, squires, Maids of Steel, Rangers, dragon masters and free people stood and raised their arms in salute, touching the centre of their foreheads and repeating the words. The chorus of their voices sounded around the hall, resonating and building in volume to a great crescendo and in the seconds that followed they heard the words echoed, flooding out through the tall windows to the castle grounds, and surrounding fields and plains, vibrating through every stone of the building. Every voice of the gathered armies spoke as one.
‘For Castellion. Let the Light free us from evil.’
The rest of the banquet passed with Frog listening to stories of past adventures being exchanged by those around him. Now and again Gizmo would point out a particular character from one of the tables and share a tale concerning bravery or battle. Frog noticed that nearly all of the individuals had a wound of some description, a missing ear or eye, the odd scar etched across their face or in a couple of extreme cases an absent limb.
‘And they’re your best fighters?’ he remarked to Gizmo. ‘I’d hate to see your worst!’
‘Would you like me to introduce you to some of our brave warriors?’ Gizmo asked. ‘We could start with Sir Firebrand over there.’ He pointed to a huge man with a great red beard and mop of tussled hair. A patch covered one eye and part of his nose was missing. He turned and grinned in Frog’s direction, showing a mouth of broken and missing teeth.
‘On second thoughts,’ said Frog nervously. ‘They all look as though they’re pretty tough. I’ll pass by that offer if you don’t mind.’
At that moment, Sir Dragonslayer appeared at his side.
‘Come, my young friend. I’ve something to show you,’ he beckoned.
Frog looked at Gizmo, who nodded in agreement. Sir Dragonslayer led Frog out through a side entrance and up a narrow, winding stone staircase. Eventually, they reached an open doorway and stepped out onto a wide, flat roof. Frog caught his breath, for there, crouched before him, was an enormous dragon. Sir Dragonslayer approached the creature and placed his head against the great beast’s muzzle. Frog could sense that something was passing between them, then suddenly Sir Dragonslayer and the dragon’s conversation was in his head.
‘Allow the boy to ride me?’said a soft, almost musical voice. ‘Do you know what that means?’
‘That he will be the first ever to have been given the honour without enduring the Ritual,’replied Sir Dragonslayer’s voice.
‘But we have no meld, he will not know what to do,’the voice came again, concerned.
‘He is special, he melds through me, he will feel and know through me,’assured Sir Dragonslayer’s voice.
‘How can this be so? What magic allows this?’questioned the dragon.
Sir Dragonslayer explained. ‘He has been brought to us through the Slipstream, the Guardians know of his coming. He is one of the Chosen.’
‘The Guardians? One of the Chosen? Bring him to me then. I need to smell his presence,’instructed the dragon.
Sir Dragonslayer turned but Frog was already approaching. By now he had made up his mind that this was too good an opportunity to miss. Besides, the voice enchanted and intrigued him, it was as if he had heard it in a dream a long time ago. Meeting the dragon felt like meeting a long-lost friend.
He stood before it, staring into its large, emerald green eyes, feeling the hot breath wash over him. His knees suddenly felt weak, not from fear, but from excitement, and he had to use all of his strength to stop them from trembling. Then, the musical voice was in his head, stronger and more vibrant than before.
‘A Chosen One, ay? Tell me, small one. Does my company make you want to scream and run?’
It leaned closer, the snout of its nose touching Frog’s chin.
Frog relaxed and opened his mind, letting his memories and thoughts escape, his head growing dizzy with the experience.
The dragon stepped back, bowing its head to the floor and Frog’s feet.
‘Truly, you are a Chosen One, I feel your essence, I share your hopes, dreams and fears and I am honoured. Climb my foreleg, take my reins and ride with me.’
For Frog, what followed was in recollection a blur, it all passed so quickly. Climbing onto the dragon’s shoulders and taking off into the night, watching the moonlit earth float beneath them and feeling so close to the endless stars above. The dragon shared many things with Frog during the flight, visions of its past and precious secrets, inner fears and glimpses of dragon dreams. A bond and great respect passed between them. Now and again they were joined by other, riderless dragons who fleetingly spoke to him as they passed by.
‘All my brethren can touch your mind and you theirs, call to them and they will answer, they will forever sense your presence wherever you are in this world, never before has a mortal been given such a gift,’ said the dragon.
The experience did not cause some great life change in Frog, but it gave him further understanding of how mysterious life could be. One visible transformation was apparent – his eyes were forever the greenest emerald eyes that you would come across.
In his sleep that night, he dreamt comfortably about his mother and father. Of the past, the present, and of flying dragons. It was the deepest and most peaceful, restful sleep that he had ever had.
9
Secrets of the Scrolls
The next morning, in the royal
court, Frog stood on the royal dais along with the other members of the Chosen. Ginger stood nervously but proudly to one side along with the other young companion of the Chosen, Fixer, Lady Dawnstar’s squire.
The commanders and knights, representing the combined armies of the kingdom, were gathered in a great semicircle around the royal dais. None were dressed in their battle armour, but in comfortable travelling attire, as they all knew that there would be many days’ journey until they reached the various fields of engagement. Their squires and servants were in the process of preparing and packing the various forms of armour, along with the food and supplies which would be needed to feed and equip the vast armies and militia as they travelled to face their enemies.
The gathered throng looked none the less resplendent and fierce in their subtle browns and greens, dark blues and reds. Many had swords hanging from their belts, some with double axes strapped to their backs. Archers leant on their longbows and the dark-skinned Rangers wore leather chest bands holding rows of short daggers, with their long bull whips coiled over their shoulders. All stood ready in expectant silence, all eyes were on the king.
King Hector rose from his throne and stepped to the edge of the dais, and as one, all who faced him dropped to one knee and bowed their heads.
‘Look to me,’ he commanded, and three hundred faces rose to meet his gaze.
‘From this day forth you will bow and kneel to no one, not even me. I ask only that you follow the guidance and command of those called the Chosen, we seven who now stand before you. Now rise, and attend to the wizard’s instructions.’
Gizmo stepped from the raised stone platform and into the centre of the floor, the gold and silver runes of his midnight blue cloak shifting and shimmering in the material as it billowed around him as if caught by a constant breeze. He carried the rolled up map and unfurled it on the floor. He then brought forward the silver cane in his hand and tapped the map with its tip. The material stretched and grew until the map was now at least three meters square, spread out for all to see.