by J H G Foss
‘I don’t think so.’
‘So how do they get by here then? Tell us everything you have learned,’ Ghene asked of Floran.
‘Well. They are very adept at avoiding the manhunters. They say that occasionally a hunter doesn’t come back, but other than that they...well, they believe a forest spirit protects this place.’
‘Such a thing is not impossible. I’ve seen no evidence of it though.’
‘The first people that came here came from Stovologard,’ continued the wizard. ‘Thirty years ago maybe, they are not all that concerned about tracking time. The eldest, a lady called Yewer, told me a great deal about the city. She was a carter and travelled around all of it and much of the countryside. Can you imagine? A huge city for dragons. Incredible when you think about it. Apparently the main city is inhabited by not only dragons, but men too. They are called dragonthralls. The city is what’s called Stovologard. The land that surrounds it is called Dempasut. The humans are slaves to the dragons. Ethnically they are a mix of fair skinned people like the manhunters we have seen and various dark skinned races apparently. Yewer also told me that the central tower of the dragon city reaches the clouds it is that big. It reaches up and out over the city of men like a dark shadow.’
‘Not just a shadow but a dark shadow, eh?’ grunted Broddor.
‘He sounds very enthusiastic to see the place, doesn’t he?’ joined in Roztov.
‘It must be terrible for the people that are held in slavery there, but there is slavery in Fiarka too. Imagine setting your eyes on such a place. Imagine then returning to tell everyone about it.’
‘How did these people escape?’
‘They seemed a little unwilling to discuss that so I did not pry. However I would guess that they arrived by sea along the coast somehow. Many of the older men are fishermen.’
‘What happened to their boats?’
‘Sunk? Burnt? I can ask tomorrow if you like.’
‘Maybe,’ said Roztov as he placed his empty mug on the only table in the room. He then stood with his back to the fire for a while. ‘You asked them about how to get to Stovologard?’
‘Yes,’ replied Floran. ‘They say crossing the chasm is impossible. A whole other nation of dragons live there. From what they tell me the chasm dragons and the dragons of the north do not get along.’
‘They are at war?’
‘Perhaps a war by dragon standards. They don’t know much about it.’
‘The manhunters come from the north though?’
‘That is my understanding.’
Roztov sat down and Broddor took his place by the fire.
‘I’m too tired to speculate about a dragon war tonight,’ said Roztov. ‘I think I’ll go to bed.’
The others retired one by one, leaving Floran to alone to sit and stare at the fire by himself. He’d left off telling them what he had learned about the Spire, it would only have given them a sleepless night after all.
Meanwhile, in another, smaller bunker, Meggelaine was trying to get Ophess to sleep.
‘You know, it’s funny, but I like it here,’ said the little druid.
‘Why?’
‘It reminds me of home. This is on a bigger scale, but it’s a lot like a torm village.’
‘You live underground?’
‘Well sort of, we live in burrows, but they are nice. You know, we have wooden floors, plastered walls. We like to keep them warm with log fires. Warmer than this place. You should sleep.’
‘But essentially a hole in the ground?’ said Ophess.
‘Don’t be so cheeky. You would hide away too if you had all those big humans about the place. Our lands were split in two because of them.’
‘You can’t be scared of anyone Meg, you have all that druid power.’
‘Well, I’m not. And I do, yes, that’s true.’
‘So, why do you let the humans bully you then?’
Meggelaine tutted.‘It’s not as simple as that. The partition happened a long time ago, before I was born. The humans are brutes, but it’s better than the alternative. If the humans didn’t fight the goblins then they, the goblins that is, would hunt and kill all the torms. That’s how most torms see it. We’ve made our peace mostly. Of course I would like to see a united Tormwood, or Tormland or whatever and maybe one day it will happen. The king of Styke is a real turd, but at least he keeps the goblins in check. Letting the dwarves in was a clever move. And well, Roztov knows more about this than me, but the kingdom to the east has failed. The rumours are its overrun with… the undead… oh…’
‘Just tell me.’
‘Something bad is brewing there anyway. Having a few thousand armoured human knights around the place might not be such a bad thing.’
‘The world is horrible.’
‘I’m not going to argue with you about that. You should sleep now.’
‘Will you wake me if father gets back?’
‘Of course…’
And so it went. Meggelaine didn’t want to get into the ins and outs of torm nationalism with a twelve year old human particularly, but it was a subject close to her heart. Throughout her entire life, torm heroes had come and gone, always failing, who wanted to unite the kingdom again and gain independence from Styke or Tomsk or both. Invoking the name of Queen Jally and stirring up sedition. The humans would get on their horses, ride into the forest, make a few arrests, burn a few homes and that would be the end of it. Well, she supposed as she blew out the candle when Ophess was finally asleep, it didn’t matter much now. If she ever made it back to Nillamandor alive she’d re-evaluate her to-do list, maybe. Maybe become the first torm queen of Tormwood after two hundred years of human rule...
‘And why not, indeed?’ she laughed quietly to herself as she rolled over to sleep.
The next morning they met again in a large room that had been assigned to them by the people of Moletown. It was pleasant enough, with a warm fireplace, a table with eight chairs and a small door at one end that could be opened to let in light and air. The room was mostly underground, with wooden steps leading up to the entrance. Another door led off to the main corridor.
They enjoyed the sensation of sitting at a table to eat their breakfast after eating so many meals sat on the ground. Their conversation was light and jovial, despite being in whispers. It moved on to families.
‘How long before your wife gets worried, do you think, Roz?’ asked Meggelaine.
‘Oh, it will be a while yet. The girls will be missing me, but well...’ he trailed off.
‘How old are they now?’
‘Agwen is four and Bellany is six. Bellany is probably taller than you now.’
Meggelaine knew that Roztov also had a son from a previous marriage, but he was in his twenties.
‘You’ll never marry?’ laughed Broddor, looking at Meggelaine.
‘Me? Gods, no,’ she said, blushing.
‘What about that fellow, what was his name?’ said Ghene clicking his fingers.
‘Assynt,’ said Roztov, who knew much more about Meggelaine’s love life than anyone, but also knew that Ghene knew very well what the fellow’s name was.
‘Never you mind about him!’ yelped Meggelaine, turning deeper red.
‘What happened to him though?’ asked Broddor.
‘Never you mind!’
Broddor turned to Roztov, ‘Well you must know, Meggelaine tells you everything! ’
Roztov shrugged and smiled.
‘Well,’ laughed Broddor. ‘Wherever he is, I wish him well. He was a fine fellow, and there is nothing wrong with a human and a fressle being together in my book. Why my own uncle married a...’
He stopped when a bread roll was thrown at his head. He casually brushed the crumbs from his beard and said, ‘I can’t see Meggelaine ever marrying anyway. Unlike Roztov who has made a regular habit of it.’
Even Roztov laughed at that one. In return he poked fun at the dwarf.
‘I'm amazed Dwerry agreed to marry you, Broddor, given how
reckless you are, when you go charging into every battle at full tilt. Like on the ship, when you leapt into the smoke and sea.’
‘I saw a serpent.’
General mirth from around the table.
‘I didn’t see this famous death leap,’ said Ghene. ‘I was at the other end of the ship.’
‘Oh it was a sight alright. A dwarf in full plate armour throwing himself headlong into the ocean. Can you swim in your armour?’ asked Roztov, a seemingly genuine question.
Broddor shrugged, ‘I don’t know.’
‘So what was your plan exactly?’ asked the druid in bafflement.
‘Well. Give whatever it was that was up there in the smoke a good whack with old Gronmorder.’
‘And then plunge to your death by drowning?’
‘I hadn’t thought that far ahead,’ replied Broddor, rubbing down his bristling beard.
Ghene pointed at the dwarf, with mock accusation.
‘It’s lucky for you there is always a druid on hand to pull your fat out of the fire. Like that time in the Moon Marshes...’
The conversation carried on for a good hour of reminisces from the old campaigners, something the sailors where happy enough to sit and listen to. Eventually though the talk wound back to the adventure they were currently having.
‘Tomorrow or the next day then,’ said Meggelaine. ‘We druids will go have a flap about and take a look at this gorge. Maybe best for Tup to talk to the people here and see what to watch out for.’
Floran nodded.
‘Everyone else just take some time to rest,’ she continued. ‘Don’t get into any trouble. It would be good to get stocked up on camping gear, but we don’t want to take things they can’t afford to do without. Healing their sick bought us a lot of good will, but let’s not waste it for the sake of a few pots and... Sorry Broddor am I boring you?’
The dwarf had been leaning back on his chair and staring at the ceiling.
‘Is there anything you want me to do while you are away, remembering that I can’t speak the lingo?’
Meggelaine looked him over. ‘Nothing springs to mind, dear. Just don’t wander off.’
Broddor grunted then said, ‘can I go for a piss at least?’
‘You may,’ Meggelaine replied without missing a beat and waved him out of the room.
In the end the druids did not risk a flight north that day and spent their time attuning to the area instead, sat in a circle under a majestic evergreen and drawing a crowd of children who watched from a distance in wonder and whispered between themselves. Mainly they did not want to risk drawing manhunters down on the settlement by scouting above the trees before attuning and before finding out what Floran could learn of the path ahead from the locals.
That evening, before leaving their spot at the evergreen, they talked. It was dark now and the children had long since been called back by their parents.
‘Interesting isn’t it? Why this place is safe? Did you sense something, a presence?’ asked Meggelaine, the most superstitious of the three of them.
‘No,’ replied Roztov.
‘Nor me,’ said Ghene. ‘But it is interesting. I think it is because it is tucked in a hollow that extends to the inlet. It’s not apparent from the ground but we are in a deep sided valley.’
‘Oh yes, yes,’ said Meggelaine, dropping the “presence” as an idea, ‘I felt that too...’
She stopped when she realised she did not know what that signified.
‘Must be something to do with air currents,’ said Roztov. ‘The valley sides will be acting like a funnel, causing a downdraught that the dragons will naturally avoid.’
‘I wonder if the runaways knew that when they settled here?’ mused Ghene.
‘Perhaps or...’
Meggelaine had stood up and was stretching her legs. She interrupted Roztov as she declared with irritation in her voice, ‘well, my arse is stiff. I’m going to walk once round the town then go get my dinner.’
Later that night Roztov and Meggelaine sat alone at the edge of the town, looking out through the trees down the valley to where the inlet was. Twinkling starlight was reflected off the sea.
‘That inlet must be fifty miles long at least,’ said Roztov, pointing and following its length with his index finger.
‘Oh don’t start with your geography again.’
Roztov let his finger fall then said, ‘listen lady, I’ve still not got any tobacco. Don’t start on me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she replied and stood up to put her arms around him and kiss him on the cheek.
He chuckled and wiped his face. ‘It’s like a kiss from Agwen.’
She sat again and nestled into his side.
‘Thanks for not saying anything about me and Assynt.’
‘What's to tell though?’
‘Nothing! Nothing at all of course.’
Roztov tussled her hair.
'Nothing happened. How could it? What a ridiculous notion... But for a time, it was like we had a meeting of minds. He was such a bumbling idiot, but underneath that he was a powerful wizard, of sorts anyway. It couldn't have gone anywhere though. Oh here is me talking about my lost love, when its nothing compared... Oh I'm sorry!'
Roztov sighed. ‘Don’t blush Meg. You don’t need to tip toe around it all the time. It was an age ago.’
They were silent for a while, looking out across the starlit sea, framed by the trees.
‘I just didn’t know the danger signs back then,’ began Roztov. ‘I didn’t know what to look for. She was so sweet and innocent when I first met her. I didn’t realise how easy or common it was for ugari to go wrong. I didn’t even know much about necromancy either.’
Meggelaine made a soothing sound and patted Roztov’s hand.
‘Well, you know the story, mostly,’ he continued. ‘I should never have let her go back to Heshmatiye by herself and I shouldn’t have left her for so long. What a nightmare the whole thing was. At least Cayogen is a good young man. I can see his mother in him, but he writes frequently and he has good teachers.'
‘There is enough of you in him, Roztov. He’ll never turn bad.’
Roztov smiled, ‘Did you worry about Assynt, back then?’
‘Not seriously, I suppose, no. He went down a different path. You men are different from ugari.’
Meggelaine tutted then continued. ‘He never seemed to do anything useful with all the magic he learnt. He has a hundred spells for calculating the movement of the stars,’ she gestured at the sky, ‘but nothing to heal a wound or blast an enemy, not like Floran.’
Roztov patted her head, ‘I know that’s not true, I’ve seen Assynt in battle, back in the days of the company. Do you ever worry about Floran then?’
‘Floran?’ said Meggelaine. ‘You’re joking, right? He’s too stupid for necromancy. He’d never give up his pyrotechnics for it anyway.’
‘Fair point.’
‘I’m getting too comfortable here. Don’t let me fall asleep. And don’t carry me back to my bed like a baby if I do.’
‘Right you are.’
She did fall asleep though, and he did carry her back, held in his arms like a baby.
Chapter 6
Moletown
The next morning, as the sun rose across the inlet, Roztov turned into a fox and had a sniff about the area around Moletown, out to about a mile or so in whatever direction interested him. Foxes were not native to the island, but it was a form he felt comfortable in and there was no one around that was likely to see him anyway.
Snow had fallen in the night and covered the forest in a blanket of white. He went down along the inlet for a couple of miles, following the north shore, keeping himself under the trees where it was warmer. The south shore was about a mile away, its steep sides just visible in the low hanging mist of the morning. It looked like a natural haze, to his expert eye, unlike the magical mists that surrounded the island’s exterior.
He found no sign of boats; he hadn’t expected to and turned b
ack. He came across two women from the town, working their way through the forest gathering pine-cones. He knew that they ate the nuts from them, and used the cones for fuel. They were young and slender, seemingly at home in the forest, but they did not notice him.
From there he skirted around the town to the north and watched some men catching and killing a rotrok. He noted that they left the vegetains alone.
When he arrived back at the settlement, he changed from a fox to the form of a sparrowhawk and swooped up into some high branches and watched from above for an hour or so. He had no suspicions, he was merely watching. The truth was, he thought to himself, he was internally writing a paper for the Royal Society back in Timu. Even though he seriously wondered if he would ever get back, he couldn’t help himself, it felt comforting. He was irritated at the loss of the notebooks that he had already compiled on the journey, but very thankful he had had the good sense to send copies of them home from Grenos before they left. Such writings would be of interest, but a paper about Tanud would be a sensation. He’d tried to write a book once, about his experiences in Fiarka tracing the Ojumf River, but he had not the patience for it. He preferred to write papers for the Society and let others (older more settled men) digest his work and write the books.
The town had woken up at first light, and after the hunters and gatherers had gone out for the day the place was quiet. He admitted that you could hardly see the place, it was so artfully hidden amongst the roots and fallen branches, not as well as Vine Street, which was completely hidden from all sides, but well enough apparently, to never attract the attention of dragons or manhunters.
He saw Yewer, the old woman Floran had been talking to, stick her head out of a door then seemingly sniff the air. She then wrapped herself in a shawl and sat on a log next to her house. After a while she pulled a pipe from her pocket and begun to pack it with something that Roztov could only imagine was tobacco.
Almost without thinking he fluttered down to sit beside her on the log and turned back into a man. Once she had got over her amazement and sat back down again she smiled and clasped her hands in greeting, moving them up and down the way that they all did here.