“Impressive, aren’t they?” the Abbot said softly beside me, as if he might wake them even from where we stood.
“They’re so big,” I said in awe.
“Some of them,” the Abbot informed me. “Some are small, Messenger dragons we call them, because they make excellent couriers if you can manage to raise one from an egg.”
“But the larger dragons – you can’t train them?” I asked, my heart hammering. My first day—my first hour, even—in the monastery, and already I was asking the exact questions my father longed to know the answers to.
“Ha, no, if only!” Another dry chuckle from the Abbot. “I see that you understand what it is we protect here, these are noble and ancient creatures – but there are precious few of them left, compared to the olden times.” The Abbot’s eyes flickered to the skies. “They are strong-willed, capricious beings, ones that do not easily make alliances, even to breed. And on the rare occasions they do mate, they are just as likely to destroy each other’s broods– so you see why any living dragon who will ally with us is precious. But even more than that, some of the dragons are intelligent. They hold secrets in their hearts and lost lore that they may teach us, if they feel so inclined. But enough of that; I haven’t even shown you the one that I wanted to, yet.”
The one? I thought, unable to tear my eyes from the magnificent, immense, powerful creatures.
“Every student who manages to gain entrance to this monastery is brought up here, and I show them who we are, and why,” the Abbot intoned as he joined me at the window, looking over my shoulder at the sight of the beasts below.
“The Draconis Order was set up over a hundred years ago, under the early days of Queen Delia. You know who she is, don’t you, boy?” Abbot Ansall flicked an annoyed glance at me, and a shiver or paranoid fear ran through me. Maybe he can read thoughts as well!
“Queen Delia was the Mother of the Three Kingdoms, and her three sons have been left to rule one kingdom each. Prince Vincent is the ruler here in the Middle Kingdom,” I said, repeating it almost by rote from the old scrolls that my father had made me read as soon as I could hold a sword.
“Good. Seeing as you are the son of Chief Warden Torvald, you know that there is risk of the unity of the Three Kingdoms falling apart. Forever,” the Abbot said. “Luckily, however, Queen Delia had great foresight. She approached us, just a small band of simple dragon-mystics who sought to learn the ways of these noble creatures, to ask us to aid her in unifying the kingdoms.” The Abbot smiled. “She knew that the Draconis Order, with the knowledge and power of dragons at our side were unstoppable. What petty bandit lord or war-chief could ever threaten the throne?”
The Abbot said all of this in a tone that was surprisingly bloodthirsty for a man of the cloth, but then again, there was nothing that he had said so far that wasn’t true. It just goes to show that everything that I think I know about monks and monasteries is upside down.
“And that is why you summoned us here,” I said. “The sons and daughters of the warlords and war chiefs of the Three Kingdoms.”
“Yes. Together, we will form an alliance that will protect each of the Three Kingdoms and last for generations. But it wasn’t just the wish that you all would get over your differences, of course… It is my wish that you would come to see the majesty and power of the creatures that we ally with…”
The Abbot raised his hand, and seemingly at that very same moment there was a loud, shrill noise from beneath us somewhere in the monastery.
“What is that?” I said, as the very stones of the floor seemed to shake.
“That is the dragon pipes, look, Neill Torvald, look at the future!” The Abbot pointed out to a window beside us, and finally I saw what could make such a blaring sound. From one of the other towers there had been wheeled a man-sized brass contraption that looked like a series of flutes strapped together and connected to a single mouthpiece, through which a black-robed monk blew.
The pipes were answered by a rumbling sound, coming from the crater where the dragons lived.
“Here. Now, this is the one I show all of my students. Look, Neill Torvald, at the mastery of Zaxx!” Ansall said, his voice breathy with excitement.
Growling filled the air as a massive gold dragon emerged from the crater, the like of which I had never seen before. It was almost twice the size of the White dragon I’d seen earlier, and stocky, with sweeping horns like a buffalo and an outgrowth of broken and cracked horns along its jaw, spine, arms.
The dragon pipes blasted again, and I watched as smaller shapes dressed in black appeared on the edge of the crater. Monks. They looked impossibly tiny compared to any of the dragons, and next to Zaxx the gold, it appeared that one of them could easily walk right down the creature’s gullet if he had wanted to open his mouth!
Zaxx lifted his head on a neck that was heavy with the folds of golden scales, some tarnished and old, forming a mighty ruff mounding on its shoulders. I watched as each of the encircling humans started hauling sacks that had been at their feet and throwing them down into the pit.
“What is that?” I whispered, watching objects, some large, some small, some that glittered wetly, some that smacked against the rocks with heavy thumps.
“Meat.” The Abbot’s voice was dry. “Zaxx is the mightiest dragon in the Three Kingdoms, and in return for his friendship we honor him with gifts.”
I watched in awe, and horror, at what was happening below. Zaxx stepped forward on legs that looked as though they could smash tree trunks with ease, shoved the White out of the way, in order to be the first to seize the majority of the food spilling from above. His wings shivered with joy as he gulped and tore at the food between fangs that could have easily impaled me. Was winning the dragons’ loyalty as simple as merely feeding them?
“So now you have seen their glory and their might, young Neill Torvald. You know what it is that we protect and champion. You must put aside all previous loyalties and petty rivalries. The Draconis Order is the future!”
As I watched, I felt like I was on the crest of a wave about to crash into an unknown shore. Although the sight of great Zaxx was terrifying, there was something also awe-inspiring about the crater, about the dragons themselves. I felt the old stirrings of my childhood wonder and excitement of these ancient creatures. Maybe, in a way, I was the lucky one of all of my brothers to be sent here. But I did not know what the result would be or what would come next. My father and brothers, I knew, did not view the dragons with the same awe that I did. They feared them. Whatever the future would bring, all I knew was that it was unstoppable and it was happening, and that I was being swept up into it.
Chapter 5
New Friends, Old Enemies
I hadn’t realized quite how hungry I was until the Abbot told me that I was on my way to eat, and then to bed, but my heart sank again as I saw the hunched shape of Quartermaster Greer standing in the courtyard with his little black book, already waiting for me.
The Quartermaster bowed his head as the Abbot swept past. His black boots and cane clipped smartly across the paving slabs to the tower with the strange brass circles and dishes hanging from every window. I would have asked what that tower was, but then my stomach rumbled and a yawn escaped me.
“Tired are we, Master Torvald?” Greer sneered, as his fingers pinched the back of my neck and thrust me forward to the Great House. I felt an instant burning of rage towards the man. Just you wait until I get out of here, Quartermaster, I’ll make you pay for treating me like this!
But for the moment, there was little I could do. I had been told by my father to go along with the rule of the Order, whatever they asked and whatever form it took. And that meant putting up with little men with big senses of self-importance like Quartermaster Greer. He shoved me past the open doors and through a drafty and cold stone corridor, to where the sounds of feasting, whooping, and shouting emerged. Food! When was the last time I had eaten – before being attacked by bandits and meeting Jodreth, was it? It se
emed like an age ago, as it was now well and truly dark.
“Here. Get yourself a bowl and a seat,” the Quartermaster Greer said as he turned the corner and pushed me into the swelter of noise, laughter and heat – all of which stopped the instant we appeared.
The banquet hall was full of students about my age, boys and girls. They all wore a black tabard over their clothes, giving the meeting a dour, somber appearance despite the now-silenced catcalls and the fading smiles. I wondered if the others here were wary of me, the new boy, or of Greer.
“Right, you lot!” the Quartermaster shouted. “Another little lordling for you,” he said contemptuously. “Although this isn’t quite true, is it, Neill?” he asked in his croaking and clear voice, and I felt my cheeks burn in shame.
Greer. The others were wary of Greer. At least we would all be unified in our hatred of him.
“Neill… Where do I know that name,” said one of the boys from the hall, standing up as he reached to take a seeded roll from a basket on the table. He was heavyset with straight dark hair, and a gold earring in his ear.
“One of your Southern lot, by the looks of him!” shouted another student. It was true, I had inherited the southern curls and darker skin of my mother’s Shaar heritage, even though my father was about as Middle Kingdom as they come!
“Lords and ladies, this is Neill Torvald, son of the Chief Warden Malos Torvald,” crowed the Quartermaster.
“Oh, only a warlord’s son,” one of them said distastefully.
“Torvald! That’s right – you’re the illegitimate one, aren’t you?” said the first, larger-set child who had been searching for my name. “Your mother is some Gypsy from the Far South…”
“Terrence, enough,” said one of the other boys there. He was small with blond hair, and small reading spectacles perched over his nose. “Half of us here come from clan families anyway…”
“Oh, hark at Dorf Lesser, protector of the lesser families!” The larger boy rolled his eyes at the smaller boy as if the one who spoke up for me was almost as bad, but he sat down all the same.
“Boys! Girls!” The voice of the Quartermaster rang out, instantly silencing them. “I trust you will give master Torvald here a warm welcome. Now, get some food and go to bed!” he barked, slapping his thigh with the palm of one hand in a sharp crack before leaving the room, leaving me to my tormentors.
There was a moment’s quiet, but the desire to eat overrode any growing caution as the hall descended once more into shouts and screams. I was glad of being invisible for a moment, as I took a bowl and started to help myself from the table of fruits, stews, cooked meats and cheeses.
“Don’t worry about Terrence,” said a voice at my side, and I turned to see that it was Dorf Lesser, alongside a girl who had come to formally ‘greet’ me (and get some of the spiced buns still available, I suspect). “He’s Terrence Aldo, son of Prince Griffith,” Dorf said.
“The Kind Prince?” I raised my eyebrows. Of the three princes that each ruled the different kingdoms, Prince Griffith of the warm south was supposed to have a heart as warm as his hot lands. “He doesn’t seem very kind to me,” I murmured, and Dorf laughed, before quickly covering up his smile and looking sheepish. Dorf Lesser was shy, I saw, and yet he had still stood up to my defense. I had known of the Lesser Clan of course, not as big as the Torvald Clan, and my brothers were always laughing about their gentle farming ways, but they did provide a lot of grain and food to Prince Vincent, our Middle Kingdom liege lord.
“Yeah, one of a kind, maybe!” said the girl at our side. “So, you’re Neill Torvald, this is Dorf Lesser, and I’m Sigrid Fenn,” the girl said. She was taller than me, but looked a little younger, with straw-brown hair and freckles
The Fenn Clan. I tried to remember what my father had told me about them. Odd bunch. Lived near the north of the Middle Kingdom, just as likely to turn and support Prince Lander of the north as they would Prince Vincent. Father didn’t trust them.
Sigrid narrowed her eyes slightly as she looked at me, before sighing slightly and looking away. What had I done wrong? Was it because I didn’t know who she was? It was Dorf Lesser who broke the awkward moment of silence.
“We three should stick together in this place,” Dorf said earnestly, his hands folding over another spiced bun on the table. I don’t think that he knew that he was doing it. “We’re all the same-- warlord’s children.”
Wardens, I thought, feeling my heart hammer as the words of my father echoed in my mind. We’re Wardens. Father hated the term ‘warlord’ or ‘war chief’ – saying that it was a way for the noble families to talk down the many clans of the Three Kingdoms, and after that, we’d be known only as ‘bandit lords.’
But I see what Dorf means, all the same, I thought, reaching out my hands.
“Nice to meet you,” I said. “Nice to meet both of you.” Dorf’s larger fist folded over mine, and Sigrid tentatively clasped the other one. I felt as though we had sealed a pact of some kind.
Chapter 6
Scribe, Protector, Mage
“Duck, roll shoulder, duck, roll shoulder…” Dorf’s constant litany beside me was beginning to get on my nerves to be honest.
“No, it’s duck shoulder, then roll,” I said, convinced that we were going to get trounced again by the others.
It had been almost a week since arriving here at the monastery, and so far, we had done little more than exercise. Everything I had thought about monks being old and boring men with long beards and their noses in books was proving wrong. Quartermaster Greer had so far shown to be a devoted taskmaster, standing outside the dormitory block and banging a brass gong before the crack of dawn, to have us running around the main courtyard until breakfast. After that came general tasks, which could be anything from moving supplies to running errands, to helping out in the kitchens, mucking out stalls in the stable (and saying hello to Stamper as I did so; the little mountain pony seemed much happier now that he was amongst others of its kind, and didn’t have a teenager coaxing her to travel every day), or hauling water from the well until lunch time, and then after that some more exercise and a few weapons drills. It was this last lesson; weapons and fighting skills that most of the other students looked forward to, as the general tasks were (according to Terrence and his cohort) ‘beneath them,’ though my father had always said that having intimate knowledge of such tasks was important for an effective leader of the people. Besides, I could see another reason for what Greer was attempting to do: toughen us all up (and especially the ones like Dorf, who did not perhaps come from such a martial Warden family as us Torvalds).
But I liked Dorf. Despite my father’s pronouncement to be wary of everyone, and to keep my eyes open for clues, I found myself beginning to trust him, just a little. He was bookish, and shy—, the opposite of me in many ways – but he was honest. But what of the bandits that attacked me on the road here – they could have been Lessers, I reminded myself. However, comparing those rough and aggressive men to the sort of person I saw in Dorf made it clear that they couldn’t be more different. If it was the Lessers who attacked me – then I don’t think Dorf here knew about it at all.
“Really? Duck shoulder and then roll forward – how on earth are you supposed to do that!?” Dorf said as the morning gong sounded again. We were going to be late, and the Quartermaster hated it if you were tardy for the morning session.
“Just like this, Dorf!” I said, taking a half skip to show him the simple maneuver that Greer was teaching us. I turned to one side, ducked my shoulder and rolled my body forward as I leapt, the result would put me beneath any opponent’s swinging fist, and hopefully ensure they were left unprotected for me to-
“Oof! Hey!” I collided bodily with someone. We landed in a heap against the far wall, and the papers that my victim had been carrying were sent everywhere.
“Hey, why didn’t you look where you were going?” the girl said angrily.
“Oh, by the rocks and stones, are you okay?” I
said, rubbing my shoulder where it had hit a wall. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” I was mortified, feeling suddenly oafish, embarrassed, and stupid in front of the girl.
“No, you’re not that good.” The girl brushed down her tunic, before looking at the mess of papers. Twin spots of high color were on her pale cheeks, and her silver hair was a mess, but she didn’t look completely furious. “It’ll take me ages to get this together,” she huffed. She was a little older than me by a year or two, and clearly wasn’t too flustered by what had happened. I was surprised that I hadn’t seen her before.
“I’ll help you!” I said, instantly feeling bad. Father had always told me to try and rectify my mistakes – it was the only thing that separated us from bandits and Raiders, after all…
“Uh, Neill? The training?” Dorf said uneasily, looking down the hall to the open doorway and the freezing, pre-dawn light outside.
“Go, go, Dorf, I’ll be okay – this won’t take but a moment,” I said. It wasn’t really his fault anyway. “And no sense you getting in trouble with Greer for my mistake…”
Dorf gave me a grin and hurried off and out of sight.
“Well, in that case, maybe I should just leave you to pick all this up so I don’t get into trouble either,” the girl said at my side, making me wince. Fair point.
“Yeah, sure – I’ll catch up…” I said, picking up one of the sheets of paper to see an array of arrows, circles and lines, filled with what looked like instructions. I had no idea what order they were supposed to go in.
“Yeah right, as if I’m going to leave you to that, huh?” The girl pointed to a sheet I was holding, and then to a pile at her side. “Let’s make two piles-- group strategies,” she pointed to the paper I was holding, “over here,” she indicated a pile of papers near her. “And individual movements, like this one”—she offered up a piece of paper with vaguely different circles and arrows, “over here. All right?” Even squinting at the diagrams, I couldn’t see the difference.
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