Isle of Dragons

by J H G Foss

  ‘This is the way they hunt then. Scorch an area of the forest then eat the barbecued vegetain meat. There must have been a herd of them here.’

  ‘I don’t like this place,’ said Meggelaine, trying to not get soot on her boots.

  ‘Agreed. I think we’ve seen enough here. Those mountains in the distance,’ Ghene gestured north. ‘See how the fog banks are forming? There is a chasm there I think. You can’t see it clearly for the low clouds, but it would account for the formation.’

  Both Ghene and Roztov were keen students of the geography. Roztov, himself from a mountainous region, concurred. ‘Must be a pretty big chasm as well. Might be worth a look. There might be civilisation there. It would be defensible from dragons maybe.’

  ‘We need to get higher and take a look, but I think that gorge extends south and west. I think...’

  ‘Err, guys,’ said Meggelaine, the only one currently looking east.

  They all looked and saw dozens of dots high in the sky. They had not been there before.

  ‘Let’s get out of here,’ said Ghene.

  They turned into falcons and flew back south as fast as they could.

  The people of Vine Street were glad to have the newcomers as guests. Broddor arranged some of their gear to go to them in payment for their lodgings. The runaways had no means of making metal so the knives and woodwork tools that were given to them were very gratefully received. They were also astounded to hear stories from the rest of the world as told to them by Floran.

  That night the whole camp turned out to hear his stories, told in a low voice around a hooded lantern in the gloomy and dank main hall.

  The others separated into two groups that evening, after the main meal, with Broddor and the druids at one side of the hall and the sailors on the other. Ophess floated between the two groups and the runaways who listened to Floran.

  At the druids’ camp they lay back on the ground, keeping warm at a small covered fire. Roztov was lying with his head propped up on a hand. Meggelaine was using his stomach as a pillow. Ghene and Broddor sat cross-legged. The conversation was about Dreggen.

  ‘The captain brought him on as a navigator then?’ said Broddor.

  ‘Roztov knows more about that,’ said Meggelaine unnecessarily, then prodded him in the ribs. She knew Roztov had not trusted Dreggen from the start.

  ‘Ah yes,’ Roztov admitted. ‘The captain brought him onboard at Grenos. You weren’t there Broddor, but we had a bit of an argument about it later on.’

  Dreggen could hardly have been described as a navigator, but he had convinced the captain of the Red Maiden that he knew the waters west of Grenos. It would have been his right to have dined at the captain’s table but he kept to himself, so much so that Broddor had barely noticed his arrival. Roztov had though.

  The voyage north-west of Grenos had started well enough.

  ‘My knowledge of the islands west of Grenos was the whole reason I was on the journey after all,’ said Roztov.

  ‘I suppose the captain thought the more he knew about the way west the better,’ said Meggelaine.

  ‘Aye,’ put in Broddor, who was sat with his eyes shut, 'in truth though we only landed on a couple of islands west of Grenos. And then winter arrived and the patron of the trip wanted to return so back we went. It was an ill-judged expedition, although we did not “sail around in circles” as Roztov often says.’

  ‘It felt like it,’ put in Roztov. ‘Besides it makes the story better for the telling and it was five years ago.’

  ‘Six and a half,’ corrected the dwarf, who could not stand inaccuracy.

  ‘Huh? Really? Well it was before Woad became king anyway.’

  ‘Oh yes, yes. I remember now,’ said Meggelaine, who would have said that whether she did or not.

  The next island they had passed after Grenos had been Pehque. Roztov and Broddor had stood on the deck and watched it roll past. A two headed giant ran up to the shoreline and waved a stone club at them.

  ‘Chalk Pehque up to being real and not mythical then’, Roztov had said.

  ‘Mark it on the chart. I want to come back here.’

  Roztov and the other two druids had their argument on that day as well. It was late in the evening, on deck, just the three of them in the bow, watching the ship’s wake in the moonlight.

  ‘I never thought I’d clap eyes on a mythical island,’ said Roztov.

  ‘That Dreggen seems to know these waters then. I wonder how?’ mused Meggelaine.

  ‘I don’t trust him.’

  Meggelaine seemed surprised. ‘Well, I suppose a human would know a human, but no one else knows these waters. What else do we have to go on?’

  ‘I know, but how can he know the way to Hanna?’

  ‘He doesn’t, but he knows what is up here. The dangers,’ said Ghene calmly.

  ‘I know I’ve said this before, but this is a wild goose chase. If Hanna is the size of Grenos we could easily sail right past it. No one knows how far west the Diamond Sea goes.’

  ‘So we spend more time flying. Scout out, get as high as possible,’ put in Meggelaine.

  ‘I don’t trust him. There is something not right about him and I think letting him guide the ship any further is a mistake,’ said Roztov. He wasn’t angry, but was becoming exasperated with the fressle and the elf.

  ‘Well...’ said Meggelaine, trying to think of something that would pacify Roztov.

  ‘What would we be doing otherwise? Think of that,’ said Ghene. ‘We would be sailing blindly north west. At least this way we have something. He knew where Pehque was.’

  ‘So? That kid isn’t right. He has a crazed look in his eyes.’

  ‘Well maybe, but what does that matter in the end? And remember, this is a voyage funded by the GFC. Myself and Meg represent the GFC. I say we stick with Dreggen. Meggelaine?’

  ‘Well...’ repeated Meggelaine.

  ‘We can just fly away if things get messy. We have ways of saving ourselves, but think of the lives of the crew.’

  Roztov was right in that they could fly, but they all knew they could only hold an avian or aquatic form for a few hours. If they did not find land in that time they would drown like everyone else if the ship sunk.

  Ghene smiled humourlessly. ‘Someone who didn’t know you as well as I did might think that you wanted this mission to fail due to your view on the argument of resettlement.’

  ‘Someone who didn’t know you as well as I did might think you are an arsehole,’ retorted Roztov.

  ‘Enough of that!’ Meggelaine interjected angrily. ‘Enough of that now. Time for bed anyway. Come on.’

  Roztov stalked off, he was not particularly angry, but he knew it was pointless to continue when Meggelaine got in the mood for acting like she was their mother. He turned into a bear and went to sleep in the hold. When he was in a sullen mood or brooding he would often turn into a bear, he found the fur comforting, even if he did wake up as a man that wished he’d slept under a blanket the next morning.

  After he’d stretched the kinks out of his back and visited the head he sought out Dreggen and found him on the deck, stood at the rail watching the sea go by.

  ‘Dreggen. Listen, where are you from?’asked Roztov.

  ‘Elbonia.’

  ‘Whereabouts in Elbonia?’

  Dreggen paused then said, ‘Oban.’

  Roztov had been to Elbonia several times before this voyage and had been to Oban once or twice. Dreggen would not have known that though.

  ‘Whereabouts in Oban?’

  ‘I don’t have to answer your questions.’

  Roztov gave him a long look then said, ‘no. You don’t.’

  If Dreggen thought the druid was going to leave at that point, he was wrong, as Roztov gazed out to sea for a good half minute then finally said, ‘you know. Well, you know, I started this life when I was a young man. Some days I feel really old. I mean, I am pretty old now. I’ve two daughters back at home. I’ve got a son somewhere too. Me and my frie
nds, we’ve come up against a lot of bad people. Giants, trolls, Lunarians, gosh – all sorts. Undead, dragons even, once or twice. We are not light weights.’

  ‘What are you trying to tell me? Are you threatening me?’

  ‘I have no need to threaten you. Meggelaine and Ghene are blinded by their desire to find Hanna. It’s going to get us into trouble no matter what happens, I can see that. I don’t know what your story is. I suppose it doesn’t matter. If I threw you over the side, they would keep on going anyway. Huh, there are whales over there. They look like blackfins. Way out to the left there, do you see them?’

  Roztov wandered off at that point, to tell the other druids of his sighting, leaving Dreggen alone at the ship’s rail. He looked, but could see nothing.

  At Vine Street, Meggelaine stood up and left the druid camp. She told the others she wanted an early night. As she entered the two person hut she shared with Ophess, the girl said to her, ‘what’s going on?’

  ‘Shush, I’m just coming to bed.’

  ‘Were you with the others? Were you talking about finding my father? What are your plans?’

  ‘Well...’ said Meggelaine.

  The little fressle had not told the others, but she had been keeping Ophess calm by telling her that her father was not dead and that they were doing everything they could to find him.

  ‘Well... This is a big island. He’s sure to be hiding somewhere safe and sound. We just need to track him down.’

  ‘We have to go find him!’

  ‘Hush, we will. But we are safe here. Roztov and Ghene are out looking for him now. They can fly and see for miles.’

  As Meggelaine undressed, Ophess continued to prattle on, nervous and edgy, her voice getting higher and higher in pitch until it was virtually a scream.

  ‘Hush, hush,’ said Meggelaine, doing her best to comfort the child. ‘We will find him soon enough. You should rest. It’s much better if you are rested and calm. Don’t make too much noise, you don’t want the manhunters to find us again.’

  It took a while, but eventually Ophess was silent again. Once she was changed into her night gown Meggelaine got into bed. She realised that by telling Ophess that her father still lived she was storing up trouble for later, but it seemed the best way to keep her quiet. The fear of bringing the manhunters down on the runaway camp was very real. Meggelaine didn’t have any children of her own and probably never would. She thought that Roztov, with his experience of fatherhood, would undoubtedly be better at this sort of thing than her, but the child had latched onto her and Roztov wasn’t much interested. He had enough on his plate anyway.

  Meggelaine lay awake for a long time before she slept.

  In muted conversation, at the sailor’s camp in the darkest area of the meeting hall, they discussed the druids and their companions. They spoke Enttish, the common tongue of Nillamandor. Tankle was the only native speaker of the language, while Arrin was from Tomsk and Salveri was from Bellavia.

  Salveri had been doing most of the talking.‘The druids can change and heal. They can fly if they change into the right animals. I think they can do other things, they can find their way easily. They leave no trail. I’ve not seen them do it, but I’ve heard druids can summon fogs, change the weather, summon forth the creatures of the forest, things like that.’

  They were all huddled up around a covered fire, wrapped up in cloaks, the steam from their breath mixing with the smoke from the fire.

  Arrin was next to talk.‘The wizard can summon up those huge ice lances. When he killed that dragon, it was... I mean, it was incredible. It just exploded into bits. My family, my friends in the tavern, they will never believe me when I tell them.’

  ‘If we ever make it home that is,’ said Salveri with a grunt. ‘I’ve heard those Hyadnians can do fireballs, summon demons, things like that.’

  ‘What about the dwarf? They seem to treat him with great reverence although he has no magic that I can see. He really lay in to those manhunters though. He is a mighty warrior.’

  ‘He seems all right,’ admitted Salveri.

  ‘I like him. I’ve known dwarves,’ put in Tankle. ‘They came to our valley and set up a fortress. A few dozen of them, to begin with anyway. The village didn’t like them at first, but their metal goods were so well made and cheap. Their stone carvings were lovely and they gave them away for free. I went inside one time, I made friends with a dwarf girl, and they carve every wall, floor and ceiling with marvellous scenes from their history and mythology. It’s amazing what they can do. Broddor must be one of those holy knights that they have. I don’t understand their gods, but I think they dedicate themselves to a temple and swear to defend it. I don’t know what he’s doing out here then.’

  ‘No dwarves in Bellavia,’ said Salveri. ‘They’ve not come that far west I suppose. What about Tomsk?’

  ‘None,’ said Arrin. ‘Plenty of fraskans though.’

  ‘What the hell is a fraskan?’

  ‘Err, like Meggelaine. They call themselves torms, but in Tomsk we call them fraskans. In Styke they call them fressles. They are all the same people. They cause all sorts of problems, they want to liberate the Tormwood or something and make it back into one kingdom again like before it was divided in two by Styke and Tomsk. The one’s I’ve met are nice though.’

  ‘Bones Blood,’ swore Salveri, the old racist. ‘There are too many squatters in the lands of man by half.’

  Unseen by the sailors a bird settled in the thorn vines above them. There was moonlight, but little of it penetrated the gloom of the vine shrouded meeting hall.

  Salveri turned the subject back to the druids and their friends. ‘Powerful they may be, but they are freebooters, mercenaries and adventurers. You see them all the time passing through Tullis. They are not like us. Life is cheap to them. A friend of my brother joined a company, he told me about it. The leaders have all these magic powers and magic items, so they always survive the battles. The kids with rusty swords and wooden spears that form the bulk of the companies, they die like flies.’

  ‘I dunno. Meg seems nice. The druids all seem nice. And you said so yourself that you like Broddor,’ said Arrin.

  ‘I like Floran,’ remarked Tankle with a blush.

  ‘Yes,yes. Individually they are nice,’ acknowledged Salveri. ‘But in general I mean, and all together. When the bacon falls into the fire they will save themselves first. We’ll be forgotten. Or just hit by a stray fireball or ice lance in the next battle. Oh, sorry, they’ll say, what a shame old Sal died or young Arrin. What a shame he didn’t have all the magic ju-ju to protect himself.’

  ‘We’d all be dead now anyway if it wasn’t for them.’ This from Tankle.

  ‘We wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for them!’ snarled Salveri.

  ‘It was the captain took the commission. We could have got on another ship.’ From Arrin.

  ‘Well whatever. We stick together right? When it all kicks off, remember we are the last of the Red Maiden right? Because you can be dam sure if they have to sacrifice us to get to this Hanna place, they’d do it.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ muttered Arrin.

  ‘We stick together right?’

  ‘Right.’

  When he turned to her in the darkness and she could see the glint of moonlight in his eyes Tankle said, ‘Right, right. Yes, right.’

  The bird that had been listening up in the vines fluttered out into the night. It was Roztov, on his way out to do his business in the forest before going to bed.

  When you had the ability to turn into a little bird, eavesdropping came easily. He had to admit to himself that there was something in what they said. People in their company had died, not many and mostly in the first few years, but enough that he was sure he had forgotten a lot of them. There had been a time, a few years after the company had been set up, when the fighting with the goblins had been brutal and bloody. After the death of Queen Beril the kingdom had been near anarchy, with the Barons all vying for power and
occasionally killing each other. It would be twenty years before Styke chose another monarch. Roztov’s father’s barony came under constant attack from goblins. Many young men that had lost their families in the raids and wanting revenge joined the Company. Some of them were near suicidal and when they joined and well... often they died.

  After the goblin wars came to a conclusion, many of those young men returned to their farms and villages. Broddor, still young and adventurous, wanted to seek gold and glory in the north, which had just entered into a period of conflict with the encroaching evil from the east. Roztov, well, he was a fourth son, it was expected that he would seek his fortune elsewhere now that their vale was peaceful, and off he went.

  They recruited again in Luxor, bolstered their numbers into the hundreds and headed into the Moon Marshes and the other desolate wastes hidden behind the Joppian Mountains. Some of them died. Young mercenaries and sell-swords from the backstreets of Wardernton and Shellbe.

  After the Marshes they went to Lunaria. It had recently invaded the south of Enttland and started a long and pointless war. The core of the Company was Roztov, Broddor, Meg, Ghene, Floran and a dozen or so others. The rest were now fifty or so younger men and women, eager to prove themselves, eagerly seeking glory. These were the ones that died, on the spears of Lunarian berserkers or blown to bits by Lunarian cannons.

  After that, other places, other people, other battles. The Company got smaller and smaller as its members died or retired. Roztov knew that hundreds of people had passed through the Company over its entire lifespan. It shamed him to know that he had long since forgotten most of those that had died. He had not kept a journal in those days.

  Leaving those reminisces for now, he landed on a branch, fluttered his feathers and attended to his business. Broddor and Floran had long speculated exactly what happened when a druid went to the toilet in animal form, specifically what happened to the dung once it left their bodies, but the druids had so far never revealed this secret to anyone.